


(like the) sun and moon

by backdoor (symmetrophobic)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, ghost au, hotel del luna au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:06:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26657092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symmetrophobic/pseuds/backdoor
Summary: Seungmin was just the sort of boy to believe in things, like the idea that love could be stronger than any other force on the earth, and last long after the vessels it lived in did. And Hyunjin was just the sort of boy to believe in Seungmin.|| a stray kids fic set in the universe of hotel del luna
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/Kim Seungmin
Comments: 118
Kudos: 78





	1. 001.

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer that while this is set in the hotel del luna universe, it really doesn't have anything to do with the main plot ahah, so no worries if you've never watched the drama!
> 
> this was inspired by (1) the titular drama, and (2) the unironic defining horror movie of my youth: shutter (2004) :""") my thought process was literally: what if shutter.....but coming of age, life and loss, and ROMANCE....... would that be too self-indulgent..... nah 
> 
> and then along the way the plot got deeper and deeper into srs bsns territory so i had to add the h/c tag :') 
> 
> posting this now because i felt like i needed a new something after everything that's happened recently, and this story just wouldn't leave my mind. hope you like it :)

“Hey.”

Hyunjin does the opposite of a zone out, coming back to the present piece by piece. He’s been doing that lots lately. Like his brain is fragmented, attached to little strings in his head that he keeps needing to pull back together.

“What?”

It’s alright, though. He’ll have plenty of time to sleep once tomorrow is over.

“I was saying,” the guy talking drops to the cracked dance studio floor beside him, shaking sweat out of his hair. Hyunjin flinches as some of it lands on his shoulder. _Ew_. “Lighten up, man.”

“Yeah. Maybe when the entrance exams aren’t tomorrow?” Hyunjin wipes the offended spot on his arm with a towel, muscles buzzing with exhaustion and restlessness. He can feel Lee Dayoon’s eyes on the side of his face. “We’re all practicing like crazy, I’m not the only one.”

“The others were talking about you, you know, after yesterday’s lesson,” the other boy continues, out of nowhere. “It got pretty ugly.”

Shock and irritability twist Hyunjin’s gut, his gaze spinning across the room of high school boys and girls, hungrily watching their reflections in the mirror. _Fuck_ , he hates dancers. Get complimented by a teacher _one_ time and suddenly you’re public enemy #1. But that's just how it is over here, in this dead ditchwater school, hanging vaguely between obscurity and potential.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. They were really out for blood, ever since Teacher Park said you had the best chances out of all of us. Talked about you like they wanted you dead.”

Hyunjin smiles wryly. On any other day, he’d be able to deal with Dayoon’s shit, but it’s a day before the preliminary rounds to enter the university of his dreams, to get the hell out of this school and do dance in a place where it _matters_. And he’s had it up to here with guys like Dayoon, who shit talk the rest for taking this so seriously, then hide out in studios by themselves until 4am to drill their routine. “Thanks, but I can look out for myself.”

“Well,” Dayoon says, lowering his voice, before Hyunjin can get up. “I think they’re full of shit.”

Hyunjin pauses. “Okay?”

“I think you’re just good because you practice harder than anyone else. If they’re going to be jealous, then let them.”

“Uh,” the other dancer glances over, uncertainty colouring his tone. This is some anime-level character development for Dayoon, and he feels kind of honoured to be witnessing it. “Thanks, man.”

Dayoon reaches over to his bag, before quickly passing over a white flask like it’s some sort of contraband. He mumbles: “This is a ginseng tonic. My mom made me some – here’s some for you too. Don’t tell the others, then everyone’ll want some.”

Hyunjin snorts. He opens the flask, sniffing, before his face wrinkles in disgust. He’s never had ginseng before – if his family could afford it, he’d make sure it goes to his parents first. That’s why he needs this scholarship so desperately. “Thanks. I guess you’re a decent guy real deep down, huh, Dayoon?”

“Shut up and drink,” the other boy rolls his eyes, turning away. He stands, holding out a fist. “All the best for tomorrow.”

Hyunjin bumps his fist, taking a sip. “You too,” he smiles.

*

Voices fade, bouncing around in the corridor outside, as the group troops out of the studio, Momo reaching to turn off the lights.

“Hey, Hwang Hyunjin!” she shouts, spotting the sleeping boy at the corner of the studio, head pillowed on his bag. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I think he said he was staying on to catch some extra practice,” Dayoon replies, voice muffled from outside the studio. Momo glances back worriedly.

“Again? He was already so out of it tonight, he needs to rest before the auditions tomorrow.”

“Let him do what he wants. Crazy bastard.”

The door swings shut slowly, sealing with a click that echoes through the empty studio.

*

The next day, 18-year-old Hwang Hyunjin is found in his high school’s dance studio by the janitor.

He is pronounced dead at the scene at 9:16am, traces of cyanide in his stomach.


	2. 002.

**4 YEARS LATER**.

“Did you hear what happened to that freshman?”

“The one who went to the third floor girls’ bathroom last week?”

“Which bathroom?”

“ _That_ bathroom. You know.”

“So stupid – didn’t she hear the stories? And at _night_?”

“What happened to her?”

“She won’t tell anyone. But she’s scared out of her mind.”

The huddle of girls look up furtively as someone walks by, before resuming their gossip. They pay little mind to the boy sitting by the window, scrolling through photos on the digital display on his camera, half-hidden in his school bag.

It’s a shoddy thing – old enough that the words inked on the metal surface have faded, brown leather grip peeling ever so slightly, and yet, not a single lens scratch or speck of rust on the neck lug. Like it’s running on sheer willpower and tender loving preventive maintenance alone.

The boy straightens up as a teacher walks in, books spilling out of her arms onto the table, and carefully puts his bag down beside his desk, zipping it up so the camera slides safely into the darkness within. His phone follows a second after, screen lighting up with a reply.

_You (10:04am)  
Hey Lixie  
Sorry, will be late tonight._

_Felix (10:05am)  
hehe ok  
I’ll wait!!  
should we expect another guest?? kkk_

*

The corridor stretches, unforgiving and endless.

Time means little to nothing at hours like these. The motion sensor lights flicker off behind him as the boy walks on, like the darkness is chasing him, shadows reaching out, cold fingers barely grazing his ankles.

The metal handle of the third floor girls’ bathroom door is freezing cold when he pushes open the door, wind rushing at his face like a breath from someone he can’t see.

Slowly, he raises the camera in his hands.

Night suits this room badly. Darkness ebbs and flows along the floor and the ceiling. Water is dripping from a sink. No one is here. No one would be, at this time.

The boy carefully watches the digital display on his camera. Everything is fuzzy lines and the greys have a different depth here, a different colour – deep and watchful. Like it could reach out and pull you into the screen if you stared too long.

There’s a panel of mirrors above the sinks. Reflected, the moonlight wavers, slivers of white, black and grey. He frowns. Something is out of place, the contrast too sharp: pale, staring, between the two rows of stalls.

The boy turns. And a white face fills up the display screen, staring straight at him.

It takes a moment. Then he looks up from the camera, to the empty space where she should be.

“Hello?”

*

 _It's a hunter_.

The spirit flares, the sound of metal against glass shuddering through the cramped room, suspending a few feet off the ground, before diving sharply, rage tearing through papery skin.

 _Boing_.

If spirits were bound by the laws of physics, she would’ve flown back in a perfect arc. Instead, she sort of just pinwheels and realigns, before stilling, checking her jaw in the mirror, unhurt but slightly offended.

“Hello? What’s your name?” The boy repeats himself.

The ghost circles him warily. He looks around, unseeing – he probably can’t see her outside of that stupid little camera display. This is new. Hunters would be protected by different charms. And he’s a human, as far as she can see.

“What are you?” she demands. “Here to drag me off? Are you the new Reaper?”

The boy quirks a small smile. “No. I’m someone who actually wants to help you.”

She pauses. Then she laughs, the sound echoing around the room. It’s not very funny, but she hasn’t heard anything funny in about 7 years.

“I’m Kim Seungmin,” the boy continues. “Class 4A.”

The spirit flutters down to eye level, so he can see her through the screen again. “4A? One of the stuck up smartass A-listers, then.”

“I do study well,” Seungmin admits. What a boy of surprises. “I want to be a lawyer when I grow up. To help the poor.”

“Help the poor? Help _yourself_ , you mean. That’s the reason any of us got stuck in this hellhole,” she hisses, pupils blowing.

“How did you die?” He squints a little at the camera display, before looking up again, eyes unseeing. “Park Minji? Class 4B?”

Her hand flies to the name tag on her uniform, flickering and dissolving, and she hisses and dashes forward. His expression doesn’t change, and she remembers – he can’t see her outside of that camera display. This is making intimidation a little inconvenient.

“Why can’t you see me?” She bites out.

“I’m only human,” Seungmin replies, somehow managing to not make her question sound completely stupid. 

The ghost laughs again. “And yet, you’re here, talking to a spirit through a camera.”

“Could be worse,” Seungmin smiles. “Isn’t it strange? How we’re all only human, and yet life makes us feel so much.”

She drifts to a stop, back in front of the lens. This boy is doing strange things to her, filling her mind with cotton. “You wouldn’t understand how it feels though, wouldn’t you, future lawyer?”

“You’re right. Maybe I don’t understand how you feel,” he says, without missing a beat. “But I know you don’t have to feel it alone.”

For a moment, she just hovers, her outline flickering. Solidifying. The tips of her feet touch the ground, as she continues staring at this strange, strange boy, who talks to her like no one ever has before.

“Come with me. There are some people I know, at a place called the Blue Moon Hotel. They can help you.”

“I can’t afford a hotel,” the reply comes automatically. Old habits die hard, even when you’re dead.

“It’s free. They won’t make you pay, and you can stay as long as you need.”

Park Minji frowns. “What is this hotel?”

Seungmin extends a hand to her, camera lowered. He smiles like a puppy. Like her little maltese Kamja, still growing old back home, somewhere she can’t really remember anymore.

“It’s a place where you can move on.”

*

Across the mahogany table, the man sitting there behind the thick manila files smiles at her once she puts the phone down. He rises slowly, walking over to set a box of tissues beside the phone.

“I didn’t know spirits could cry,” Minji says, in defense of herself, taking three out of spite and blowing her nose. The sound echoes embarrassingly around the plush, blue-walled dining room.

“How was the conversation with your parents?”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then she stacks the crumpled tissues neatly on the table in front of her, not looking up at the man and his reassuring smile. “I said sorry.”

“Mm?”

“They said it too. My mom cried a lot,” she scoffs, but her lower lip wobbles. She glares up at him. “Is reincarnation real?”

“Yes.”

“Can I know where I’ll go?”

“That’s something none of us know. Why do you ask?”

“Can I go back to them? My parents?” she asks. For a moment, she is completely vulnerable. “I promised. To be a better daughter in my next life.”

The man pulls out another tissue, folding it carefully. “If we could all go back to people we’ve lost, then none of us would ever move on, don’t you think?” he hands it to her, smiling. “You can be a better daughter, or son, or mother or father. And at this moment, that is all that we can do.”

Minji takes the tissue, wiping her eyes again. “Okay. Thank you…” she looks up from his name tag. “Manager Bang Chan-ssi?”

“That’s me,” Chan says warmly. “Now, if you would kindly proceed outside. Don’t forget your flower.”

*

Minji trails behind Grim Reaper into the carpeted, brightly lit hallway, looking away from the stiff lines of his black robe and close-cropped dark hair to glance back.

It’s then she sees _him_. Standing near the wall, camera in his hands, a genuine warmth spilling from his eyes and his smile, radiating outwards from him like the sun.

Inadvertently, she smiles. He lifts a hand from the camera to wave faintly.

“Reaper-ssi,” she says, and the man stops, mild annoyance coming off his sharp face in waves when he turns back. “Who is that boy?”

“Kim Seungmin,” the Reaper replies, in a tone that suggests this time could be much better spent doing something other than talking about That Boy.

“I know, but who _is_ he?”

The man wrinkles his nose, before turning away. “Just a silly boy who thinks he can change the world.”

As the Reaper walks off, Minji catches her reflection in the modest half mirror hanging on the wall. It’s strange, to once more be able to see the twin braids coming down both shoulders on her pressed white school uniform blouse, the red, living flush under her skin, puffy eyes from the call just now, and finally, the flower she now holds in both hands.

Then she turns back to the boy. “Seungmin-ssi!”

He straightens, looking at her curiously.

“Our school,” she says, a little breathlessly. “You-…you should go to the top floor. The dance studio. Bring your camera.”

Then, not really knowing how else to leave, she mumbles out a “ _thank you_ ”, before turning tail and scuttling after the Reaper.

That night, she’s gone, on towards a promise.

“That was a fast one,” Felix comments, as they watch the limo purr off into the dark brick tunnel, towards the afterlife. He reaches down to scratch at the stiff pants leg of his uniform. “She seemed happy to go, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Seungmin replies. His thumb is skimming across the cross keys of the camera in his hands in a clockwise movement, a comforting habit. “I wonder how her parents are.”

“They’ll be okay. You know it,” the bartender smiles, before nudging him. “Now how about a drink to celebrate!”

“Have any coffee?” Seungmin says drily, as they turn to head back to the Hotel. “I’ve got a lot of homework to catch up on.”

“Ah, the banes of being alive. _Homework_.”

“And Lix…”

“Mmh?”

Seungmin looks at his camera. “There’ll be another one tomorrow night, I think.”

Felix gives him a long, contemplative look, twiddling a button on his velvet vest, not really sure how to say what he means. Eventually, he sighs, and it’s just the two of them, footsteps muffled in the carpet of leaves on the road.

“Okay,” he says, before grabbing Seungmin’s hand, pulling him on with a bright smile. “Come on. We found a French Press yesterday and I can make the _best_ lattes now. You can do your homework behind the bar so Minho doesn’t catch you.”

*

With a merry, slightly dissonant tinkle, the old speaker in the studio finally powers down, like it’s keeling over from exhaustion.

“See you tomorrow morning.”

“Or not. I’m fucking beat. If I don’t wake up, make sure Teacher Park never finds my shrine for him.”

“Has anyone seen my muscle tape? The blue one?”

“Lee Chaeryeong!” Raesung shouts, one hand on the door frame. “Are you coming?”

“No, it’s okay,” Chaeryeong waves a hand, before reaching up to tighten her ponytail. “You guys go ahead. I just need to get this routine right.”

“Alone?” Heejin glances around the room. On every wall, her reflection stares back, warped slightly through the old mirrors. “You know what they say about…this studio.”

“What do they say?” it’s Dongpyo, a wide-eyed freshman.

“After that senior…you _know_ , four years ago…people get _injuries_ here,” Heejin whispers. “Out of nowhere. They could be doing a routine they’ve done fifty times and suddenly they’re in the hospital with a torn ligament.”

“Sounds pretty normal to me,” Raesung shrugs.

Another girl hits him, terrified. “Don’t say things like that! You’ll piss him off!”

“It’ll be a quick one,” Chaeryeong says firmly, shaking her head. She frowns at her reflection in the mirror as the rest rumble off reluctantly, the sound of their voices cutting off once the door clicks shut.

Lee Chaeryeong is a practical girl.

She’s not about to start blaspheming while stuck alone in this allegedly haunted dance studio (and she _has_ heard the stories), _no_ , she’s not a white boy in a horror film. But she does need to get this routine perfect.

Tomorrow’s a big day, after all.

Turning on the music again, she breathes deeply, taking her place in the centre of the room. Even with the slightly metallic sound of the tune she’s heard hundreds of times filling up the studio, there’s still a cold sweat prickling on the back of her neck as she looks at herself in the mirror.

_Don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it._

Her knees bend, almost of their own accord, with the way her muscles have memorized this movement. She’s grown familiar with this feeling, how sometimes it feels like the body’s moving on its own, like there’s a separate, intrinsic force within her puppeteering her muscles and bones.

Then, she turns her head to the left, and sees the face of a boy in the mirror.

She screams, stumbling over, before the door whooshes opens. “Chaeryeong?”

“Yah, Kim Seungmin!” she presses a hand over her heart, feeling it race. “Ah, you really scared me!”

“Sorry,” the boy says, sounding sincerely apologetic. There’s a camera in his hands – the same one he’s always bringing around. “Are you okay?”

Kim Seungmin is a quiet kid, never going out of his way to stand out in class or their school clubs. It’s a little shameful to admit, but Chaeryeong honestly wouldn’t even have noticed him if she hadn’t missed a math class for a dance competition last year.

She would’ve been grateful to copy off someone’s notes after that, but he’d sat down with her after school to go over the topic, calm and systematic, way better than billion-year-old Teacher Ahn. Usually Chaeryeong would put it down to just another boy trying to score a date with her or something, but Seungmin was…different.

It was kind of charming.

But _charmed_ is not how Chaeryeong’s feeling right now. More like preliminary stages of cardiac arrest.

“Why are you here alone?” Seungmin asks. There’s an underlying note of urgency in his voice.

“I just wanted to get a little more practice in before tomorrow,” Chaeryeong sighs as she walks over to reset the music. “You know, the entrance exams.”

“Ah, I heard. Where to?”

“Seoul U. Where else?” the girl shakes her head irritably. She’s been running on nothing but coffee and gritty, bony determination these few months. “If I can’t get into their dance program, I’m going to kill myself.”

“You’ve been practicing really hard every day. I heard from Ryujin,” the boy continues steadily. “You should go home and rest.”

“It’s alright,” the dancer returns to the centre of the room, heartbeat starting up again, the restless buzz in her limbs urging her to _dance, just dance_. “I just need another shot.”

“Chaeryeong, I _really_ don’t think-…”

“One more try. Just one.”

“ _Chaeryeong!_ ”

*

In the centre of the studio, the girl pauses, knees slightly bent, arms raised, a puzzled frown on her face.

She’s looking at Seungmin. And so is the boy crouched by her feet, outline whispery and faded, pale hands poised over Chaeryeong’s right ankle, ready to snap the bone cleanly in two.

“Chaeryeong-ah,” Seungmin takes a step further in, voice gentle but firm. “I _really_ think you should go home and rest before the audition tomorrow.”

Confused and exhausted, the girl finally relents. “Okay. Yeah, whatever,” she sighs, walking over to shut the music off. The cold sweat prickles again on the back of her neck. “I’m just really nervous for tomorrow.”

“You’re going to do great, Ryeong. You know it better than me,” Seungmin says, like he honestly believes it, heading with her to the door as she grabs her bag.

“Thanks. Wish I had as much faith as you,” Chaeryeong laughs, stepping out. Then she leans back in. “…Aren’t you coming?”

“Ah, Ryujin’s down the hallway. Near the drinking fountain. She said she wanted to wait for you,” Seungmin points to the lights. “I’ll just close up around here.”

“Oh. I mean, I could wait for you…?”

“It’s okay,” he says again, almost pleading for her to go. “There’s something I need to do.”

Chaeryeong blinks, staring at him, then around the room, like she's watching out for something she can't see.

“Okay,” she nods, slowly, half to herself, before heading out, letting the door swing shut.

*

Breathing uneven, Seungmin raises the camera.

And the boy now sitting in the centre of the room appears once more through the screen, watching him hungrily, with eyes like razors.

His hair is long, black and matted down the sides of his white face. Dark blood is trickling out the sides of his lips, down his throat, staining the white neckline of his shirt. When he opens his mouth, his voice sounds like broken glass on metal.

“You can see me?”

Seungmin looks up from his camera, a crease in his brow. Not from the ghost in the studio, but from the slow, strong tug beginning at the bottom of his chest. “Yes, I can.”

The boy stands, one sweeping motion that steals all the remaining light in the silent room. Even now, he moves like a dancer, like a predator, every step like the promise of death getting closer. Close enough, Seungmin can see the blood staining the corners of his sharp eyes, too. As though tears of water and salt hadn’t hurt enough.

“What are you doing here?”

“My name is Kim Seungmin,” Seungmin replies, eyes following the ghost through the screen carefully. “I’m here to help you.”

“Really?” Even now, his outline flickering like candlelight, the boy’s just made out of dangerous, inviting lines. Every angle of his body is strong, from his legs to his shoulders to his dark, dark eyes. He glances to the door Chaeryeong’d just left through. “Didn’t feel like it.”

“You can’t do these things,” Seungmin shakes his head. “You shouldn’t.”

“Why?” The other boy looks at him through the camera, head cocking slightly. "Because she didn't deserve it?"

Seungmin’s eyes catch on the bloodstains down the side of the boy’s mouth, and he doesn’t say anything for a moment.

“Can I ask you a question, Kim Seungmin?” the boy slips out of the confines of the camera, beginning to encircle Seungmin, tread as soft as a panther. Though invisible, his presence lingers wherever he goes, so Seungmin feels like he’s surrounded. “What do you think of dancers?”

“They’re passionate people,” Seungmin replies carefully. “They’re brave, and diligent.”

“I bet you think they’re happy, don’t you?” two cold arms slide onto Seungmin’s shoulders, one hand reaching down to pinch at the name tag on the front of his uniform. “Working hard and chasing their passions instead of the silly little rat race you’re stuck in at 4A?

“You see them gathering in their big, noisy cliques around school, all the girls in their tight little white crop tops and boys in 35,000won Adidas caps, and you think they’re living a way better life than you, so you don’t care about them, right?” The voice speaking in his ear is slow and innocent, as though talking to a pre-schooler.

“But I’m here to tell you that dancers are full of poison, Kim Seungmin. And in the deepest part of all those people in that dance studio with her just now was a little bit of hope that what I was going to do to her would come true,” the coldness spreads out to wrap itself around Seungmin from behind, now, seeping into his skin and curling around his wrists. “So tell me again, Seungmin – do you still think you know what we _deserve_?”

Seungmin takes a sharp breath at the contact, reaching up to grab the hand pressed against his chest, turning around. “I know enough.”

There’s a prolonged silence after that, as the hand in his burns like ice.

“Then you know you should leave,” the spirit whispers. “Or I’ll kill you.”

That inexplicable pull in Seungmin’s chest feels like it’s blossoming outwards, filling the room, then, pounding louder and louder in his ears. The camera he’s holding is humming. Slowly, he lets the camera fall taut against the strap on his neck, raising his other hand.

Until his fingertips connect with skin in thin air, tracing back slowly, brushing back dark hair.

“I won’t let you,” he speaks, unhindered.

The ghost tightens his grip on Seungmin’s other hand momentarily, but he doesn’t do anything. Seungmin wishes he could see his face.

“What do you want with me?”

“Will you follow me?”

The silence shifts to deafening. Like the boy’s thinking of pulling away, but he’s not sure. “Where to?”

“A hotel I know. They can help you, if you want.”

“No one can help me.”

Seungmin pauses. “You’re right. This is your choice,” he looks up, eyes searching blindly. “Will you let me bring you there?”

The boy hesitates. Mutely, furiously, he lets Seungmin walk him to the doorway.

Starting off down the corridor, a cold, fluttering hand in his, Seungmin looks back again, unseeing. “What’s your name?”

Invisible, the boy’s jaw twitches, like he wants to look back, then thinks better of it.

“Hyunjin,” he whispers. “Hwang Hyunjin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i'm going to write a love story!!  
> the story: *ten chapters of coming of age, hurt/comfort, underdeveloped social commentary with unnecessary allusions to the sun and moon, and three (3) kisses*  
> me: surprised pikachu face


	3. 003.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starting off down the corridor, a cold, fluttering hand in his, Seungmin looks back again, unseeing. “What’s your name?”
> 
> Invisible, the boy’s jaw twitches, like he wants to look back, then thinks better of it.
> 
> “Hyunjin,” he whispers. “Hwang Hyunjin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will be including snippets from the previous chapter in the chapter summary from now on! 

_You (6:21pm)  
Hey Felix, I’m almost there  
How is he?_

_Lixie (6:22pm)  
hes ok!! minhos complaining dont get him angry tonight  
im doing fine too thx for asking!! >:(_

_You (6:25pm)  
[sticker_attached] :) _

_Lixie (6:25pm)  
[sticker_attached] <3 <3 <3_

Dusk clings to these streets like an evening gown, clothing the people who huddle up in coats, hurrying out of the chill into warm restaurants, laughing in little groups as they head down the pavement, passing the glowing glass shop displays.

Conveniently ignored by every passer-by, Seungmin slips through the gates at crest of the hill, heading up the steps towards the aged, elegant looking bungalow and its sprawling surrounding gardens. Above the door, a sign in neon blinks: _The Blue Moon Hotel_.

“Seungmin!” The girl behind the ebony counter springs up with a wide smile once he steps in, rattling the dark wood pigeonholes of keys behind her. “Whoops.”

“Hi Yuna. How’s business tonight?”

“Boring,” she slumps down on the countertop dramatically. “Why didn’t you bring any guests?”

“Maybe next week,” Seungmin steps into the lift from the dark green carpet, waving. “See you around.”

Yuna waves somberly as the lift doors close.

The elevator whirs and clicks its way up, whizzing silently past dozens of unseen floors, before _dinging_ proudly as its doors opening into the main lobby.

And Seungmin steps out onto the black and marble tiles, glancing up involuntarily at the arched golden ceiling, lit gorgeously by the two chandeliers and bronze sconces adorning the pillars. The expensive smell of foreign perfumes clings lightly, and the polite, indoor buzz of voices fills the air.

At the lobby bar, Felix is daydreaming as usual behind the marble bartop, toying with a stem glass of strawberry daiquiri. Guests are milling around the lobby, some holding pamphlets and looking lost, while others are wearing swimming trunks, blue and white towels over their shoulders. Occasionally, one would notice Seungmin and get a shock.

At the foot of the grand lobby staircase, one hand on a golden bannister, Chan spots him and smiles fondly, like an older brother. It hurts, just a little. “Minnie! How’ve you been? How was school?”

“Tiring, like always. Can I study in the reading room again tomorrow?” Seungmin hefts his bag up, as they ascend the stairs together. He glances back hopefully. “Felix promised to make me a handmade latte.”

“He’s been razing down our coffee stock ever since I found him that French Press,” Chan sighs. “Don’t you think you should be studying with your friends, anyway?”

“Felix _is_ my friend.”

“I mean your _alive_ friends,” Chan glances at a passing server. “Minyoung, when’s the next floral arrangement for the dining room coming?”

“9pm, Manager Bang.”

“Okay. Let me know if the supplier issue crops up again.”

“I do have alive friends. There’s you, hyung,” Seungmin grins, as they continue heading up, until they’re standing in the deep blue carpet on the midway landing.

“You know what I mean,” Chan checks a message on his phone, giving Seungmin a _look_. “I’m the only other human at this hotel, and I don’t even have any connection with you outside of it. You need to be with your parents, and your friends from school.”

The younger boy sighs. “I’m going with Jeongin to a PC bang this Saturday?”

“Okay, that’s good,” the manager smiles. He nudges Seungmin in what’s probably an attempt to be playful. “Is this _Jeongin_ someone special? I heard you talk about him a few times.”

“Ugh, _no_ , hyung, he’s my best friend. And he’s very happily in a relationship with someone else, thank you,” Seungmin grimaces. Chan can be such a _dad_ sometimes.

“Ah, that’s a shame,” Chan checks his watch. “You’ll find someone soon Minnie, you’re a good person.”

“Okay, thanks hyung, but I don’t really need-…”

“Hang on, sorry,” Chan sighs, then. “Here we go.”

Seungmin frowns, as a couple of bellboys scurry past them down the steps, terrified. “What-…?”

He’s interrupted as the double doors at the head of the stairs swing open on heavy, well-oiled hinges, then.

The detailed white and gold embroidery on the age-old wood catches the light, and almost everyone in the hotel lobby looks up in mild surprise, except for the staff, who are Used To This Shit and are instead using the precious seconds left to look as busy as possible.

A moment later, the owner of the Blue Moon Hotel walks through.

One would imagine the motion to be described as something like _sweeping_ , or _gliding_ , with all the grace typically afforded to such an entrance.

However, Seungmin has come to learn that there are rich men who buy diamond-encrusted watches and custom number plate BMWs, and walk around their own bungalow homes in a three-piece suit. But even above them exists yet another class of people, so rich, that they could sit in the nearest café with an iced Americano and a book for two hours, wearing a comfortable shirt and jeans.

Lee Minho’s polished Hermes sneakers are soundless on the deep blue carpet, one hand in his pocket of his black chinos, while the other holds a glass of champagne, a chain glinting underneath the lines of his midnight black blazer. The sight of him, something off the high fashion edition front cover of _Allure_ , seems as ridiculous against all this old money grandeur as Seungmin’s awkward high school uniform and backpack.

And yet, somehow, it works. Like the hotel’s a living, breathing thing, that’s moulded itself to fit him.

Minho lets out a derisive breath once his eyes land on Seungmin, kittenlike eyes narrowing. “Ah, you. Back just in time.”

Seungmin tries to look inconspicuous.

“When are the guests getting into the dining hall?” Minho continues, holding out his glass. As if by magic, a server appears, holding a tray for it.

“Right about now,” Chan follows him down the stairs, Seungmin trailing aimlessly behind, still holding his breath a little. “We had a supply issue this afternoon, but it’s been resolved. Are you heading out?”

More servers continue to sideline them, one with a white coat, a wallet and set of car keys, one holding a mirror, that Minho briefly glances at. “Going to see a deity about a rogue hunter.”

“Need Changbin with you?”

“I don’t _need_ Changbin with me, Chan, but if he promises to be a good boy and not fall asleep when the Goddess of Death is talking to me again, then he’s welcome to tag along in the backseat,” Minho says drily, fastening the clasp of his watch. “I’ll be at the carpark in ten minutes.”

“I’ll get the valet.”

“And Seungmin?” Minho turns around, like it’s an afterthought. The man nods once at the staircase behind them, before looking back at his phone. “He’s up there.”

Seungmin whirls around, just as the dinner bell rings melodically through the atrium, and crowds of guests begin to rise to head for the dining hall.

Minho scoffs as the boy disappears among the guests. “Stupid boy,” he glances at Chan. “You said you’d talk him out of this. It’s been six months, why’s he even still here?”

Chan dips his head in a slight bow as he holds the elevator doors open. “You said it yourself. His body might be flesh and blood on this earth, but his heart…” he glances back.

“It departed a long time ago.”

*

Dinnertime’s melody, some sort of harp and bell combination, finally quietens just before Seungmin reaches the foot of the stairs.

The guests, chatting and smiling, begin streaming past the two of them to go up for dinner, like they’re nothing more than two stones in a river.

Hyunjin’s still looking around, curious but generally unbothered by his surroundings. Now that Seungmin can see without his camera, he realises the other boy is tall, probably even taller than him.

He’s got the sort of sharp eyes and plump lips you’d find on a runway model, soft dark hair now pulled back into a messy half ponytail, not the cookie cutter chiselled features of the idols all over Seoul, but heartbreakingly handsome all the same. He’s wearing a pristine white shirt, the hem coming down to just above his hands, above a pair of black sweatpants, and worn sneakers – they hadn’t bothered to change him out of his dance things.

“Hwang Hyunjin?”

The boy looks at him, politely indifferent as Seungmin ascends the stairs towards him, until they’re level with each other. “Sorry, who are you?”

“Kim Seungmin. I’m a senior at-…”

“No, sorry, as in, who _are_ you?” Hyunjin stays at arm’s length, dark eyes flicking down once to Seungmin’s outstretched hand with a tinge of reluctance. “Who are those men? Why did you bring me here?”

Seungmin lets his hand fall back to his side. “We’re just…trying to help you move on.”

“Move on to where?”

“I guess they haven’t had the time to tell you anything yet,” Seungmin gestures behind him hesitantly. “I could…fill you in? Show you around?”

Hyunjin glances down at the expansive lobby, then, before his head dips in a single, tight nod.

“Okay. Thank you.”

*

“The Blue Moon Hotel exists to help the souls still here to move on to the afterlife, by settling the unfinished business they have on earth. Once they are at peace enough to leave, they will receive a flower from _Magu_. And the Grim Reaper will take them to the bridge that leads to the afterlife.”

Across the table from Seungmin, the ghost boy looks around the dining room, at the silver buffet tureens lined up in the centre, poking at his rice. He’s been quiet this whole time, and for the first time, Seungmin finds himself struggling.

To compensate, he gestures around them. “In the meantime, they can stay at this hotel as long as they need. Every guest has their own room, all meals are provided, and the staff will help you in whichever way they can,” he points behind him, out the double doors of the grand dining room. “We even have a beach. And room service.”

Hyunjin lifts his cup to his nose, before taking slow a sip of barley tea. “So...what do I have to do now?”

“It’s different for everyone,” Seungmin explains patiently. “Like a girl I brought back here this week spoke to her parents through the hotel’s Dream Call service. And last week, I brought an old man to see his fifth great-grandchild born.”

The other boy looks down at his food. “So I’m looking for…closure, or something? Before I can,” he gestures faintly. “Go to the afterlife?”

Seungmin watches him carefully.

“Do you remember how you died?”

Hyunjin looks at him, chin out, gaze cold and impersonal. He nods once.

“Sometimes knowing what happened after that brings catharsis, you know?” Seungmin continues steadfastly. “I…took the liberty of looking up what happened four years ago, if that’s okay. The student who caused your death, Lee Dayoon – he turned himself in to the police during investigations.

“He said he didn’t think the dose would kill you, he just wanted you to miss your audition so he’d have better chances. He’s in prison now, and he’ll be there for the next 10 years, at the very least.”

After a long pause, the other boy finally looks away. “Okay.”

A feeling starts at the bottom of Seungmin’s chest again, the same slow, overwhelming pull from the night before. Not really knowing why, he reaches across the little table, until his hand settles on Hyunjin’s.

And the spirit turns back, fingers coiling defensively inwards. Yet, he doesn’t pull away.

“I’m…sorry about what happened,” Seungmin murmurs.

A listless smile tugs at Hyunjin’s lips. “At least it’s over. If he didn’t do it to me, someone else would’ve,” he shrugs, looking away again. “Maybe it would’ve been me.”

That hangs in the air for a while, but the moment dissipates before either of them can say anything as a waitress glides up to the table, setting a tray down in front of Seungmin. “Compliments from Head Chef Lee.”

“Thank you, Yehye,” the boy smiles briefly, as the waitress leaves, not without casting a curious glance at where their hands were on the table.

He sees Hyunjin eye his food questioningly – a rice ball and egg roll, with seaweed soup, kimchi and beansprouts. It does look out of place, against the luxury of the spread in the centre of the room.

“Why are you eating that?” the spirit asks, looking at his own food. He pushes his plate of pan-seared fish and fried zucchini slices towards Seungmin. “Take some of mine.”

“Oh, I can’t eat the food here. Thanks, though,” Seungmin beams. “The Head Chef is really kind, she prepares food specially for me and Chan.”

Hyunjin’s dark, sharp eyes wander, then, from the camera, sitting innocuously on the table, to the food, then around the ballroom, at the ghosts chattering and smiling as they eat their dinner.

Seungmin _feels_ the question before he hears it.

“Sorry, but…why are you here?”

Out of his mouth, the question sounds innocent, yet heavy, like a lone iceberg in a frigid ocean. Seungmin wonders how much he’s ready to share, and how much Hyunjin’s ready to hear.

“I mean,” Hyunjin continues, mumbling a little now. “You’re the only other human in this hotel, other than the manager, right? So you...kind of bring vengeful spirits back, magically make them good again, and then send them off to the afterlife?”

As always, Seungmin’s hand finds its way to the camera. “My older brother left me this before he passed away. It helps me see the dead, outside this hotel,” he smiles wryly. “I think he would’ve wanted me to do this.”

He can see the questions springing up behind Hyunjin’s eyes, and is both surprised and relieved when the spirit holds them back. The expression on his face shifts, then, from the chilly, polite indifference of just now to a cool, chic sort of smile.

Quietly, Seungmin wonders if this is how he’d been when he was alive.

“That’s nice,” the other boy says softly.

Seungmin picks up his chopsticks. “You know, if you’re interested to see what’s outside the hotel - there’s a bunch of nice parks just outside here, we could go take a walk, or something?”

Hyunjin mirrors him, before taking a bite of rice. “Sure,” he shrugs. “I’m dead now. Got all the time in the world.”

*

When he’d been alive, Hwang Hyunjin was made of passion.

The slightest of ripples in his heart could make waves that would crush the oxygen out of his lungs. When he was happy, it zipped through his body to every last cell in his body, inflating his chest like a hot air balloon, and when he was sad, it was rain and rolling thunder in his head, filling his body with unshed tears.

Now, though, his heart feels like it’s flatlined. Side effects of being dead, he supposes.

Normally, the idea of beaches and buffets would excite Hyunjin, who hadn’t been to a beach since a family trip to Busan when he was 5. But he was learning that these things meant little without the right people filling the blanks in between.

Still, there’s a strange comfort in walking down these twilit streets, listening to Seungmin talk.

He’s sure that if Seungmin tried, he could be a weather forecaster, or a singer, or one of those people who record bedtime stories on CDs for children. The restaurants and parks surrounding the hotel didn’t really sound _exciting_ out of his mouth – they sounded safe. They sounded like places you could wander through and fall asleep in the middle of.

The more he talks, the more Hyunjin finds himself watching him instead of paying attention to what he’s saying, the way his eyes widen when he looks up and the way he tilts his head when he’s asking a question.

“…not sure about?” Seungmin finishes, looking at Hyunjin. Or at least, he tries, gaze landing somewhere about an inch in front of the other boy. “Sorry, am I-…?”

“Almost,” Hyunjin tries not to laugh, and the other boy’s eyes find him immediately, following the sound of his voice. “You really can’t see me outside the hotel?” Seungmin shakes his head. “But you can…hear me? You can feel me?”

“Yeah, it’s inconvenient. If it weren’t for Minho, I wouldn’t be able to see you in there, either,” the other boy sighs, lifting up his camera. He smiles, a tiny lift to his lips, when he sees Hyunjin through the lens. “That’s why I always carry this around. But like I was saying – is there anything else you want to know about the hotel?”

“Hm,” Hyunjin shrugs. “What’s the profit model?”

Seungmin pauses, frowning comically. Out here in the chilly evening air, his hands have evolved into sweater paws. It should look ridiculous, but Seungmin was just the type of boy who could pull off sweater paws. Hyunjin knew he sure couldn’t. “What?”

“The profit model of this hotel,” Hyunjin looks back up the hill, at the grand, skyscraper-worthy building, lit from top to bottom in warm gold. “I mean, none of the guests pay, right?”

“Um, I’ve never really asked about that,” Seungmin pauses, uncertain. “I know when they go over to the afterlife, they send flowers back, that grow in the garden. That…makes money. Somehow. Only the manager knows the logistics of it, really.”

“The manager – he’s the nice one, right? The one who keeps calling me Hyunjin _-ssi_.”

“Yeah, General Manager Chan,” Seungmin smiles. The streetlights catch in his eyes for a moment, making them sparkle. “He helps run the hotel, liase with the human world to make sure all the supplies come in on time. Like I said before, he’s the only other human at the hotel. The rest of the staff are all ghosts who’ve been around for a while, like Felix, the bartender.”

“So the boss of a ghost hotel…is a human?”

“Oh, no, the _big_ boss is Minho. He’s the one who helped you back there. The hotel is his, and he’s been around longer than anyone else.”

“He isn’t human?”

“No, but he isn’t a spirit either, or a deity,” Seungmin hesitates. “No one really knows what he is – but _don’t_ get on his bad side, he’s got a scary temper. Today was a good day, by his standards.”

Hyunjin finds himself holding back a laugh. It’s kind of funny, how genuinely concerned this fragile human boy seems to be about his health. _I mean, it’s not like it can get any worse._

“Shouldn’t you be telling yourself that?” he raises a brow, as they turn into a quieter street. The shops here are mostly closed, and the road’s deserted. “I could’ve hurt you really bad last night, you know?”

“I know you wouldn’t have,” Seungmin says. It’s not presumptuous, or flattering – he says it like it’s the Platonic truth.

 _What a silly kid_ , Hyunjin thinks, half in awe and half concerned. _One day he’s going to get eaten by a vengeful spirit more powerful than me_.

“Besides, this camera my brother gave me,” Seungmin taps the camera, now hanging by its strap around his neck. “I don’t really know how, but it keeps me safe from spirit attacks. Like a shield, or something, you know.”

“Really?” Hyunjin eyes Seungmin, walking down the darkened street without a care in the world. “Hah,” he halfheartedly punches the other boy’s shoulder, and ends up having to fumble and grab him before he can stumble into the roadside gutter.

“ _Yah_ ,” he scoffs, hauling Seungmin back onto the pavement. _So much for that camera keeping him safe from spirits._ “I barely even hit you.”

The next two seconds happen in slow motion: first, the crescendo of a sound like nails down a chalkboard, getting closer and closer.

Then a bubble of gold materialises like lightning around Seungmin just as something impacts them, shrieking and careening off into the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for all the talking in this chapter askjdklsd things will definitely start picking up in the next one :') 
> 
> comments and kudos will be much treasured and loved, let me know your predictions!! *eye emoji* yall have always been spot on with plot predictions in surrender and 19, i'm excited to see what you guys will think of this one hehe
> 
> just an update too for those who are following surrender - it and a bunch of other fics are still under construction and will be locked until they're clean :') thank you for understanding! 
> 
> stay safe and stay healthy! <3


	4. 004.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Really?” Hyunjin eyes Seungmin, walking down the darkened street without a care in the world. “Hah,” he halfheartedly punches the other boy’s shoulder, and ends up having to fumble and grab him before he can stumble into the roadside gutter.
> 
> “Yah,” he scoffs, hauling Seungmin back onto the pavement. _So much for that camera keeping him safe from spirits._ “I barely even hit you.”
> 
> The next two seconds happen in slow motion: first, the crescendo of a sound like nails down a chalkboard, getting closer and closer.
> 
> Then a bubble of gold materialises like lightning around Seungmin just as something impacts them, shrieking and careening off into the air.

Hyunjin realises the hard way that while he might’ve lost a lot of things on the way from life to death, a weak heart was not one of them.

He almost flinches himself into a wall, legs kicking into reverse gear instantly. “ _What_ -…”

A bell, low and deep, bellows out through the street, then, almost rumbling the concrete beneath their feet. He sees something in the middle of the darkened street ahead: a formless woman, still screaming. _It’s another spirit_.

“ _Where is she?_ ” Hyunjin realises Seungmin is begging, grabbing his arm. “Where’s the spirit?”

“ _There_ , in the street, can’t you see?” Hyunjin points in a panic with the arm Seungmin's holding, forgetting that he cannot, in fact, see. “We need to get _out_ of-…”

Whatever he wants to say next, he promptly forgets, because it’s the moment Seungmin lets go of him, running _towards_ the apparition writhing on the road.

If Hyunjin had a functional endocrine system, he’d be going into hysterics. As it is, he just grabs his head, staring in horror as the other boy sprints on. “Where are you _going_?”

He starts running after Seungmin, but the bell rings again, pitch lower this time, and something about it rattles Hyunjin right down to his core, makes him freeze up in his tracks.

Then he sees _her_.

There’s a woman dressed in all black, a sleeved blouse with a little frill around the neck, and culottes that cast long shadows on the ground, like valleys. She's walking calmly down an invisible set of steps from the sky, towards the spirit, and by extension, towards Seungmin.

Something about her scares Hyunjin more than the twisting, shrieking spirit under the moonlight ever could.

“Seungmin!” he cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, panicking. “Careful, there’s another woman!”

The boy turns away for a second, camera still in his hands, and the ghost in the centre of the street grabs the chance, leaping up to pounce on him.

Until she’s slammed down onto the asphalt, pinned like a butterfly.

The lady walking towards the spirit has her hand extended, palm down. In front of her, the ghost continues to wail.

Even Seungmin is backing away, onto the pavement, and Hyunjin finally gathers the metaphorical guts to dash over, grabbing his elbow and pulling him back towards the adjacent wall. “Who is that woman?”

“It’s Mago,” there’s a note of despair in Seungmin’s voice, very out of place for someone who’d just barely escaped death by spirit. “I couldn’t get to her in time.”

 _In time for what_ , Hyunjin never gets to ask, because the ghost’s shrieks take on a different tone. Where it’d been anger before, the pitch begins to hike, anguish and pain slicing into Hyunjin’s heart.

Horrified, he watches as bits of her begin to _burn_ off, flaking and spiralling like ashes. His eyes flick to the lady standing over her, still watching the spirit with that impassive face. _Is she doing this?_

“Vengeful spirits who get caught by Mago…” Seungmin’s voice quivers. “It always ends the same, no matter how much they beg.”

The spectacle goes on for what feels like forever, until there’s nothing but a waste pile of flickering ashes in the centre of the street, the rattle of the spirit’s screams echoing in Hyunjin’s mind. The lady standing over the embers lowers her hand, watching the wind begin to pick up the flakes of grey and fire.

Then she turns, beginning to walk away. Hyunjin tries his best to convince himself that she’s not heading in their direction, looking right at him.

He doesn’t realise how tightly he’s holding onto Seungmin’s hand until the boy touches his arm, still staring, unseeing, out into the street. “Don’t worry. Jihyo won’t hurt you.”

And yet, the woman draws closer still, impassive gaze landing on Hyunjin, precise and critical. Like she knows exactly what Hyunjin used to be.

But then she glances at Seungmin, and walks on, a rush of dry heat rolling through the air as she brushes past them, disappearing into the alley behind.

“Mago and the Grim Reaper seek and destroy spirits that hurt and kill humans,” Seungmin says, a note of sadness in his voice. As though he can see Hyunjin’s distress, he lifts their hands, still linked. “You can’t go back to being like that, okay? This,” he glances out into the street, before turning back, sounding pained. “You can’t let that happen to you.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin swallows. “Okay, I get it,” he takes a deep, steadying breath out of habit, taking a step away. “What’s going to,” he gestures feebly towards the street. “Going to happen to her now?”

“The Grim Reaper will come to collect her ashes eventually,” Seungmin shakes his head, turning back towards the hotel. “Come on. You don’t want to meet him.”

Their walk back starts silent, soundless other than the winking of streetlights and distant fanfare from Myeongdong’s shopping streets. Around them, the occasional passerby hurries on, oblivious to the carnage in the middle of the street.

“So what do I have to do?” Hyunjin begins, throat dry. “To – what? Get my flower and go to the afterlife?”

“Well,” Seungmin says slowly, taking a deep breath. “Some people choose to visit the place where they died for answers. If you’re okay to come back to school, I could…pick you up tomorrow, and-…”

“Okay.”

The younger boy blinks. “What?”

“I’ll go with you. Tomorrow morning,” Hyunjin says, tucking his hands back in his pocket as they walk on. He nudges the camera hanging around Seungmin’s neck, wishing the other boy could see him. “We go - we went to the same school, right?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got lessons and stuff in the morning, it'll be a while before I can go up with you,” Seungmin says slowly. “I could just pick you up after classes, you know?”

The encounter from just now has Hyunjin feeling a little shaken, and the thought of sitting and waiting at the hotel alone for a whole morning just sounds…unappealing. “It’s okay with me if it’s fine by you.”

Seungmin mulls it over. “Well…if you don’t mind sitting through the _nerdy_ kids’ classes…”

 _That_ draws a breathy laugh out of Hyunjin, releasing some of the tension from his shoulders. “I mean, I’ve always wanted to feel smart. So you…you don’t mind?”

“Yeah, of course.”

They walk on until they reach the gilded, vined gates leading up to the hotel, and Seungmin stops awkwardly, fiddling with his camera. “So I’ll see you tomorrow at school?”

“Yeah,” Everything feels safer, now, with the warm light pouring down from the faux homely bungalow exterior of the hotel, and the way it lights up Seungmin’s face, pools of lamplight in his eyes. “Don’t sound so stiff,” he tries to lighten the mood. “It’s not like we’re going on a _date_ or anything.”

The words sound caustic and immature coming out of his mouth, and for a wild moment Hyunjin wonders if dying’s made him forget how to talk to people again.

Still, Seungmin lets out a rushed laugh, looking down, so the flush that rises to his cheeks becomes barely noticeable in the dim streetlight. “Yeah. Of course not,” he waves, then, taking a step back. “See you tomorrow.”

Hyunjin waves mutely, only remembering Seungmin can’t see him when the boy’s already halfway down the street, walking towards the bus stop.

Oddly, he feels compelled to stand in the garden, watching the other boy wait at a dark bus stop that’s nothing but a pinprick in the distance down the hill, until his bus rolls to a stop in front of him, and he gets on.

Sighing and rapping his head with his knuckles, Hyunjin walks back towards the hotel porch. Being a ghost makes you feel all kinds of funny, he thinks.

*

It takes an inflicted manslaughter and four years of haunting an old dance studio, but Hyunjin manages to come to the realisation that school isn’t half as bad when you’re not the one studying.

Besides, he’s never really _hated_ classes. Hatred implies some sort of gut-stirring passion. He just kind of remembers coasting through lessons, not doing bad enough to get in trouble but never coming close to the top 30%, either.

He stares around the busy corridor, trying his best not to walk into people, as he follows closely behind Seungmin. It feels freeing, watching these kids anxiously discussing notes and tests and knowing he’s (albeit forcibly) left all that behind, now.

Seungmin slows down every so often, looking over his shoulder questioningly until Hyunjin gives some sign that he’s there. When he does so for the fourth time that morning and barely escapes getting run over by a horde of juniors carrying baseball gloves, Hyunjin wonders, exasperated, if there’s a more efficient way of doing this.

“I’m here,” Hyunjin announces, inching past a couple of girls – he can walk through people just fine, but that doesn’t mean he _wants_ to. “Where’s your classroom?”

“It’s just up ahead,” the other boy smiles, before going back to his math notebook.

The high school senior been buried in that book all morning, explaining to Hyunjin that he had to revise for a quiz coming up this week. Understandable – even back during his time, the kids in 4A had been legendary muggers.

Speaking of 4A, the class isn’t as quiet and stiff-necked as Hyunjin’d expected, but the lack of laughing and roughhousing hits him the moment they step in, completely unlike 4D, where he’d been.

The students are still leaning over their desks to talk to each other, except they’ve got exercise books in their hands instead of manhwa. Almost all of them are seated, though the teacher’s not even here yet.

Hyunjin settles down comfortably beside Seungmin as the boy takes the aisle seat beside the window, putting his bag down. “Where’s your seatmate?”

“Lia’s always late,” it’s fascinating, watching Seungmin get ready for class. He takes out his beat-up white plastic box pencil case, opening it to reveal a timetable taped to inner side of the lid, colour coded by highlighter, and then, carefully, his textbook, dogeared and vandalised.

Then he takes out a tortoiseshell, oval shaped thing that turns out to be a spectacles case, that probably belonged to his mom, like, _fifty_ years ago.

“Oh wow,” Hyunjin says, raising both brows, before giggling, as Seungmin turns to glare at him with the glasses on. “Oh _no_. You look like such a loser.”

“You try reading the blackboard with myopia like mine,” the boy sighs.

“Why don’t you just get contacts?” Hyunjin leans back, grabbing Seungmin’s eraser and examining it.

He glances back, wondering if the student behind him notices the floating eraser, but the girl’s still talking to her friend, completely oblivious. What an interesting, exploitable law of the universe, he thinks.

“They’re expensive, I usually just wear them on the days when I have to,” Seungmin frowns. “Can you take your feet off the table?”

“I thought you said you couldn’t see me!”

“I don’t need to see you to know what you’re doing,” the other boy says snidely, the first hint of playfulness Hyunjin’s seen. He feels a sense of achievement, like finding a video game easter egg. “Anyway, you have to get out either way, Lia just arrived.”

Hyunjin huffs, hopping up on the ledge by the windowsill as a girl hurries to the seat, out of breath.

“Woke up late again?” Seungmin takes out his math notebook, setting it on the table. Again, it’s that playful tone – kind of like a golden retriever knocking over a stack of laundry you’d left alone on the floor for one second.

“Shut up, Kim Seungmin,” it’s a pretty, smiley girl with one of those big, dark blue clips in her hair, holding it out of her face. She fumbles to take out all her things as the teacher walks in, instructing the class to settle down. “I didn’t manage to have a coffee this morning, so you’d better keep quiet if you like your toes in their current order.”

They continue bickering quietly, much to Hyunjin’s entertainment, until a boy walks past the table, just as Seungmin’s bending over to take something else out of his bag.

In one smooth movement, he deftly snatches the math notebook off Seungmin’s desk and walks on. Hyunjin grins – his friends used to mess with each other like that all the time, too.

Except Lia scoffs and hisses, trying and failing to grab it back. “Yah, Lee Donghyuck!”

Seungmin surfaces, face first confused as he glances at his desk, now empty, then deeply annoyed in a split second. Hyunjin frowns at the other boy, who’s taking his seat diagonally one table in front on the right, as realisation hits him.

“Donghyuck,” Seungmin says in a half reprimand, half sigh. Hyunjin sees the kids around them either suddenly become deaf to the conversation, or start sniggering with their desk partners. “Lee Donghyuck. _Haechan_.”

“What? You called?” The boy turns back, eyes wide with innocence. “Don’t talk when the teacher’s about to talk, Seungmin-ah.”

“Give me my math notebook back.”

“What are you talking about? Where?”

“I literally saw you put it into your bag.”

“I don’t see it. Yah, Jaemin, can you see Seungmin’s math notebook?” Donghyuck shows his bag to his deskmate, who gives an exaggerated shrug and a chuckle. He turns back, still with that infuriatingly smug look. “Sorry, Seungmin. Maybe you’ll find it later.”

“Math is in ten minutes,” Seungmin says through gritted teeth, ignoring the other boys around Donghyuck, who are starting to laugh. “I need my book.”

“So? You’re smart enough to skip study camp and top the class, right?” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, and something about that rubs Hyunjin the wrong way instantly. “Think of it as your concession for the people who actually study hard, okay?”

The teacher starts talking at the front of the class, then, and Hyunjin sees Lia nudge Seungmin, who’s still sitting silently, back stiff. “Forget it. You know he’s just being a bitch because you made Top 3 and he can’t get an A without copying off all your stuff. I’ll share my notes with you.”

 _Hm_. Hyunjin hops off the ledge lightly, then.

Cautiously, he begins making his way through the bags and tables. He’d been spatially aware enough when he was alive, but he moves even more soundlessly now, gliding through the little cracks and crevices unseen until he arrives at Donghyuck’s table.

Crouching down, his eyes fixed carefully on the boy, he picks the math notebook up from the bag, holding it tight to his chest. Not a single ounce of realisation comes across his face, not even when Hyunjin waves a hand in front of him, pleasantly surprised.

A quick glance around tells him that no one else has noticed this either. _Wow_. People just really don’t see what they don’t expect to, he supposes.

“Enjoy that B-, jerk,” he whispers. The boy blinks, but doesn’t react otherwise.

Carefreely, Hyunjin begins to make his way back.

*

Ironically, Seungmin’s not even the first one to realise it.

Hyunjin watches, starting to fall asleep on the window ledge, as Donghyuck reaches into his bag when math starts, not even looking in – it annoys him, how many times that punk must’ve done this to reach in so casually.

Then he frowns, looking in, riffling through his books. He even leans over to whisper to his friend, who gives him a confused look.

That’s the moment he turns back, to glance accusingly at Seungmin, unable to look too long while the teacher’s up in front.

Realisation seems to sink in for Seungmin, then, who looks into his bag, brow furrowed, and pauses. Then he takes out the notebook, setting it slowly on the table.

“ _Hey_ , is that – how’d you get it back?” Lia whispers, before laughing. “Oh _shit_ , did Donghyuck take the wrong book?”

“He must’ve. Silly me,” Seungmin says absently, looking around then, a cross between a frown and a smile on his face.

Still comfortably half-lying down on the ledge, Hyunjin cups his hands around his mouth. “You’re welcome.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes with a smile, then, opening the book to start writing.

*

“Thanks for just now.”

“Don’t thank me. You shouldn’t let jerks like him walk all over you,” Hyunjin says, as they head down the crowded hallway together, after Seungmin had said goodbye to Lia. “If anyone talked like that to me, I would’ve slung them out of the window.”

“Not all of us have the core strength to do something like that,” Seungmin rolls his eyes again. It’s true, the more Hyunjin notices about him – Seungmin is kind of tall, but skinny as a stick. The height doesn’t seem to do much other than screw over his centre of gravity. “Besides, he’s not a bad person. He’s just insecure because his parents only notice him when he does well in school.”

“Oof,” Hyunjin says, half because he doesn’t want to sympathise with a jerk like that, and half because he’d just walked through a girl, like _through_ a girl. “So, are you heading for lunch now?”

“Don’t you want to see the dance studio first? Isn’t that why we came?”

Oh. Hyunjin’s stomach sinks a little. _Right_.

The whole morning, he’d been putting the thought of it off, keeping himself occupied with following Seungmin around. But he's going to have to face it eventually.

Seungmin turns around, then, after a few more steps, looking around him. It’s both annoying and endearing to see him like this, so lost and concerned. Hyunjin sighs. “Yeah. I’m here.”

“You know don’t have to do this today if you don’t want to. We can come back tomorrow.”

“It’s just putting off the inevitable, right?” Hyunjin shrugs, starting to walk off. “Let’s just go.”

Seungmin starts walking, too, except the corridors are narrower here than downstairs, and despite some last-minute manoeuvring from the spirit, he ends up walking right into Hyunjin.

And just like last night, Hyunjin's forced to grab Seungmin's arm before the boy can crash into the lockers. Huffing, he straightens the other boy up. “Can you be _careful_?”

“It’s not _my_ fault I can’t see you,” Seungmin complains, before sighing. “You know what-…” he reaches out to take Hyunjin’s arm with his other hand before the ghost can let go, guiding himself downwards, until their hands are clasped together.

“There,” he says, satisfied, other hand returning to his backpack strap. “Now I can’t lose you.”

Hyunjin makes an unintelligible sound, eyes darting from their intertwined hands to staring in disbelief as the other boy starts walking off contentedly.

 _What a silly boy_ , he thinks as he’s pulled along, determinedly ignoring the fact that if he had a pulse right now, it’d be through the roof. _What a strange, silly boy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realise i dumbed and didn't put this at the beginning like i wanted to - the title is taken from day6's day and night! the happy-song-sad-lyrics device is so widely used in kpop music nowadays but youngk somehow manages to always make it special ;u; 
> 
> on the surface, day and night might feel like just another cheerful melody overlaying lyrics about two lovers who (imo) feel like they aren't destined to be together, but the arrangement and vocals add a level of optimism and playful flirtiness over that too, which i feel is pretty much the essence of this fic ;u; tldr i just really fking love day6
> 
> the next update will be a double update but work is getting pretty rough so i'm hoping i can still stick to this once a week posting schedule :') 
> 
> let me know what you guys think, and if you have any ~theories~ yet! there are still a bunch of characters/aspects of this universe yet to be introduced hehe, hope you guys like it when it's here :)
> 
> p.s. edited the summary so it sounds less psychological slasher horror and more like the dumb angsty high school romance it's supposed to be


	5. 005.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t you want to see the dance studio first? Isn’t that why we came?”
> 
> Oh. Hyunjin’s stomach sinks a little. _Right._
> 
> The whole morning, he’d been putting the thought of it off, keeping himself occupied with following Seungmin around. But he's going to have to face it eventually.
> 
> Seungmin turns around, then, after a few more steps, looking around him. It’s both annoying and endearing to see him like this, so lost and concerned. Hyunjin sighs. “Yeah. I’m here.”

It’s quieter once they head up the stairs to the top floor, walking down the empty stretch of corridor towards the dance studio.

Every step makes Hyunjin want to turn around and run away. Everything’s still the same – the rank old smell of the corridors, the shitty ceiling lights, the rusted lockers. It was a place where dreams signed up to die.

The only part that’s different about it right now is Seungmin, still holding his hand.

Through the dusty midday dimness, they walk on in a comforting silence.

It’s unmistakeable, however, the vibrations of music through the floor, and the muffled sound of a steady bass pounding through the air once they reach the studio.

“Oh? Someone’s inside,” Seungmin peers in, before pushing open the door. Immediately, the music pours out around them, along with the sound of a girl cheering. “Chaeryeong?”

The girl in the centre of the room turns around, surprised, as does the other girl crouched on the floor a few feet away. “Seungmin?”

Ryujin stands up, shutting off the music. She’s still a little breathless. “Why are you here?”

“I should be asking you that question,” Seungmin laughs, still standing in the doorway. Behind him, Hyunjin looks over his shoulder, both hands now clasped tightly around Seungmin’s. “Weren’t the auditions just yesterday? How were they?”

Chaeryeong and Ryujin exchange glances, before laughing. “I mean, it was okay,” Chaeryeong shrugs, but she looks pleased with herself. “They said we’ll know the results by next month, maybe. So, whatever! At least it’s over.”

“Same here. Anyway, you gonna come in or what?” Ryujin leans back, legs stretched out in front of her. “You’re letting out all the air-conditioning.”

Hyunjin sees Seungmin half-glance back questioningly, and tries to nod before remembering Seungmin can’t see him. “It’s okay. We can go in.”

A dull whine starts at the back of his head as he steps over the threshold again, just like last night, except he’s returning instead of escaping. It’s kind of horrible to be back here, stuck in these four walls with their warped mirrors and padded walls. Breathing deeply, he tries to listen to what Seungmin’s saying.

“…thought you’d want to take a break after all that practice,” the other boy continues casually, Hyunjin’s hand still secured under his hoodie sleeve.

Again, Chaeryeong and Ryujin look at each other, before the first girl sighs, massaging her shoulder. “Honestly, that’s what I thought too. Ryujin and I were like, let’s go relax! After our audition. And then…”

“We just stood outside Seoul U for like, five minutes, wondering what to do,” Ryujin rolls her eyes. “We didn’t feel like going to a noraebang or anything, and we were too nervous to eat.”

“So we came back to dance,” Chaeryeong shrugs. There’s a pause, as she looks around the room, like she’s not quite sure what to say. “We didn’t know what else to do.”

A sharp pang shoots through Hyunjin, then, making him gasp. In its wake, there’s a slow, bitter ache, like alcohol on an infected wound.

“All just street jazz and hip hop, though, I’m _through_ with contemporary,” Ryujin groans, oblivious. “I don’t want to touch it again until Friday, at least.”

Hyunjin feels Seungmin squeeze his hand lightly, asking if he’s okay. He wants to answer him, but honestly, he doesn’t know. This place just makes him want to run as far as he can, and yet…

Yet, it always finds a way to fill his mind, to draw him back in. Just like it did with Chaeryeong and Ryujin.

He feels like a moth, wings burned full of holes, still fluttering towards the flame.

“You guys heading for lunch?” Seungmin must’ve taken his silence negatively. “I’m going with Jeongin, we could go together?”

“Yeah, I think we’ve had enough masochism for today,” Ryujin stands up, grabbing her bag and bottle.

Quietly, Hyunjin lets himself be shepherded out. The two girls walk in front, chatting about dance and the auditions, while Seungmin fumbles with his bag.

Hyunjin sees him pulling the camera out, and lets out a low laugh. “I’m _fine_ , it’s okay.”

“Oh,” Seungmin stops searching. “You got quiet just now.”

“I’m still holding your hand, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, I guess. I was just worried,” the other boy says quietly. “Did it help? Coming back here?”

Hyunjin glances back, at the room far on the end of the corridor, slipping out of view as they head down the stairs towards the cafeteria. It’s an automatic reaction, to lie and say yes, close the case so it won’t trouble anyone anymore, but somehow, that train of thought sees the look on Seungmin’s face, and changes track.

“Maybe,” he mumbles instead. “I don’t know.”

Seungmin smiles, squeezing Hyunjin’s hand again.

“It’s okay. We’ll get there.”

*

The rest of the day passes uneventfully, with Hyunjin just people-watching through most of Seungmin’s remaining lessons. Fifteen minutes after the end of day bell, the classroom is almost completely emptied out, and Hyunjin sits by himself, watching Seungmin at the front of the classroom, clarifying something with Teacher Park.

It’s sort of funny, he thinks wryly, because he’d thought the smart kids would stay longer in class – the 4D kids used to stay until evening, complaining as they did homework together and talking about webcomics.

“They’re getting lunch before study camp,” Seungmin explains quietly, tucking his Literature notebook into his bag once he’s back. Hyunjin’s only half listening, watching Teacher Park rewriting out an entire concept on the blackboard for an anxious-looking student up front. “They’ll stay there and study until midnight.”

“That not your thing?”

“It’s not a bad place, they’ve got free hot drinks and biscuits. I used to be a study camp kid too,” Seungmin lets out a breathy laugh. “Until, yeah,” he slings his bag over his shoulder, walking out into the corridor.

He doesn’t finish that sentence, and somehow, Hyunjin doesn’t feel ready to ask him to.

“So how are we getting back to the hotel?”

Hyunjin leans against the lockers lined up outside the classroom, watching Seungmin start loading books back into his locker as the place begin to empty out, teachers all heading back to the staff office.

“Bus,” Seungmin replies absently, twiddling his locker combination. “You didn’t get anything to eat today – you could go grab something from the banquet once we’re back. I’ll be in the lounge with Felix, sorry, I’ve really got to study for this math quiz.”

“Yeah okay, don’t worry about it,” the other boy hums, walking back to the other entrance of the classroom. To be honest, a part of him wants some time to process everything that’s happened today, too – maybe over a long nap, or a bath. He peers in absently, wondering where the remaining kids inside have gone. “Don’t make me sound so overly _attached_ , please.”

“Okay, sorry,” Seungmin chuckles from outside the classroom. “Don’t worry, it’s very-…”

There’s a loud _clang_ from outside that makes Hyunjin jump, and he pokes his head out, momentarily forgetting that he can’t be seen.

“Who’re you _talking_ to?”

 _Fuck_.

It’s Donghyuck, cornering Seungmin against the locker.

“How about you ask me _without_ slamming me into a locker, Donghyuck?” Seungmin glares back.

The other boy doesn’t reply, just grabs at Seungmin’s bag, tugging at the zip hard and reaching in, despite Seungmin’s struggling. He wrenches out the math notebook, almost ripping it, before hitting the other boy on the head with it. “Maybe you’ll think twice before stealing stuff out of my bag again.”

“I can’t _steal_ what belongs to me, Donghyuck,” Seungmin tries to pull it back. “You know, I’d be glad to go through the material with you after school if you’d just _ask_.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “With a loser like you?” He raises a brow, flicking the rim of Seungmin’s glasses. The harsh plastic sound resounds through the empty corridor. “Not all guys want to spend _alone_ time with boys like _you_ do, Kim Seungmin,” he gets the book with one last tug, before turning to head off down the corridor, waving the book, leaving Seungmin standing by his locker.

“You’ll get it back eventually. I’ll need math notes for next week too, anyway.”

Lee Donghyuck’s about three quarters of the way away when he drops his guard, and looks down at the book. That’s his first mistake.

The locker door in front of him bursts open, slamming him facefirst so he crumples down, swearing. Looking around wildly, fists ready, he stands up. That’s his second mistake.

The same door opens again, catching him on the right shoulder hard enough to make him drop the book.

Nursing a swollen cheek and busted lip, he watches as the book skids across the floor back towards Seungmin, on its own.

“What the _hell_?” he turns around, about to take a step, when the locker door in front of him opens one last time.

He stops, just before it can hit him. That’s his final mistake.

Through the three horizontal little vents slit into the rusting metal door, there’s a pair of eyes watching him.

Hyunjin watches smugly as the other boy yells, stumbling back and sprinting back down the corridor towards the stairs. Leisurely, he closes the locker door, patting it, before heading back to Seungmin.

“I didn’t even know I could do that.”

“Hwang _Hyunjin!_ ” Seungmin hisses, hitting him on the nearest part he can find once he hears his voice, which happens to be his elbow. _Ow_.

“What?” Hyunjin winces.

“Why did you _do_ that!”

“What, you mean, stop him from taking your math book, so you can study for your _quiz_?” the ghost says defensively. “Were you just going to let him get away with that?”

He stumbles backwards a little, then, as Seungmin throws his arms around him. “Don’t hurt humans anymore,” he sounds genuinely terrified, voice muffled in Hyunjin’s shirt. “ _Promise_ me you won’t.”

Hyunjin’s mind is a spiralling mess of confusion and shock. And yet, the strangest thing is the feeling welling up deep in his chest, like a magnetic pull that’s interfering with everything else happening in his head. It’s the _most_ of anything he’s felt in-…in a long while, he supposes, he can’t remember.

“O-okay?” he says awkwardly, reaching up to pat Seungmin’s back. “I won’t.”

When they part, Seungmin is looking away, face flushed, eyes brimming with frustration, a complete 180 from his usual collected, smiley self. He turns away, stuffing his math notebook back in his bag. “Let’s go back.”

Hyunjin watches him walk off, a stormcloud over his head, and frowns, before taking a couple of longer strides to catch up to him.

They spend the bus ride in silence, Seungmin only speaking to him again once they’re back at the hotel, when he seems to relax a bit more. And after that, strangely, it’s like things go back to normal.

All the same, though, listening to the other boy talk about lattes when they’re on the elevator up, Hyunjin can’t help but wonder, back there, what all that was about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will either be a short one in two days, or a long one next weekend! 
> 
> honestly curious as to whether you guys prefer shorter, more frequent updates, or longer weekly ones ;; (if i can even keep this weekly thing up)
> 
> comments and kudos will be loved and treasured, especially this week haha :') life really do be one long tough ride sometimes


	6. 006.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they part, Seungmin is looking away, face flushed, eyes brimming with frustration, a complete 180 from his usual collected, smiley self. He turns away, stuffing his math notebook back in his bag. “Let’s go back.”
> 
> Hyunjin watches him walk off, a stormcloud over his head, and frowns, before taking a couple of longer strides to catch up to him.
> 
> They spend the bus ride in silence, Seungmin only speaking to him again once they’re back at the hotel, when he seems to relax a bit more. And after that, strangely, it’s like things go back to normal.
> 
> All the same, though, listening to the other boy talk about lattes when they’re on the elevator up, Hyunjin can’t help but wonder, back there, what all that was about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the actual double update, part 1/2

“So you like Americanos?”

Hyunjin’s hands are folded on the bartop, watching in mild terror as the bartender stares him down with a near manic elation. “…Well, kind of, I mean, when I study – or stu _died_ , I guess-…”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place!” the platinum blond boy bursts out, busy hands getting to work straight away with a complicated-looking, whirring machine that smells like a Starbucks. “Get ready for the _best_ Americano you’ve ever tasted in your _life_.”

After dinner, Seungmin had brought Hyunjin up to the common lounge, where he’d promised to introduce him to his friend Felix.

The lounge itself is a strange sight – it kind of looks like the set of a common room in a Harry Potter movie, all chintz chairs, warm fireplaces and bookshelves, except that maybe the respective interior designer hired had been someone fresh out of grad school, young and bright and utterly, mind-blowingly bored.

The mahogany table in the middle of the room has cat paw legs, and strewn across the couches are knitted, floppy, hug-sized stuffed bunnies. Beside the cheery fake fireplace, koi swim in lazy circles in a glowing blue glass tank under the bean bags.

And the cherry on top of all this heartfelt chaos, Hyunjin thinks, is Felix.

There’s an enamel duck brooch pinned to the lapel of his simple black vest, and spots of coffee on his otherwise pristine white shirt sleeves. The bartender hums, bobbing from side to side as he pulls a shot from the hulking, whirring Pasquini espresso machine sitting behind the bar, and the aroma of coffee fills the air.

It makes Hyunjin think of the freezing nights he’d stand outside the Ediya Coffee near the university with the dance crew, gloved hands wrapped around a cheap latte he couldn’t really afford. He remembers talking and laughing with the rest of them, at the way their breath became clouds after taking a sip.

He’d never really liked the taste of coffee, but the smell of it still made him feel the same.

With utmost precision, the platinum blond boy pours the shot into a clear glass of ice cubes and water, before smiling at his handiwork till his eyes disappear.

“Enjoy,” Felix beams toothily, carefully placing the iced Americano in front of Hyunjin. It comes with a little saucer, napkin and biscuit.

“Thanks,” Hyunjin nods, still feeling a little awkward, despite how friendly Felix seems to be. Involuntarily, he glances back to where Seungmin is, wishing the other boy were here.

The high school senior’s at the cat paw table, writing out long, scary-looking formulas into an exercise book, occasionally pausing to key something into a calculator and scribble down the answer. The lighting in the room should make him look ridiculous – the faint blue glow from the koi pond, coupled with the soft gold of the lamplight, but somehow, he manages. _And he doesn’t even know it_.

“Did Seungmin bring you back here too?”

Hyunjin blinks, back to the present. Out of politeness, he takes a sip of the coffee, and realises it isn’t as bad as he thought it’d be. “Um, yeah. Does he do that often?”

“Bring boys back to hotels? Only the cute ones,” Felix giggles, then puts a hand over his mouth, looking ashamed. “Chan says I shouldn’t make the guests feel uncomfortable. Sorry, I was joking.”

“Haha, don’t worry about it.”

“Well, he does it all the time!” Felix smiles. “He found me wandering around outside and brought me here about six months ago! I’ve seen him bring back tons of ghosts since then.”

“Oh. Okay.” For some reason, the thought of that makes Hyunjin feel a little dumb, as he glances back at Seungmin again. _I guess it makes sense that he’d just always be this nice to everyone_.

“…why?” Felix sinks down on the bartop, chin resting on his palm, a curious smile on his face. Hyunjin takes a slow, apprehensive sip of coffee.

“What do you mean _why_?”

“As in,” Felix casts a pointed glance at Seungmin, grinning. “Do you… _you know_.”

Hyunjin coughs into his Americano.

He accepts the glass of water Felix pushes over with a glare, noting that the other ghost is still laughing. “ _No_.”

“Okay, okay,” the bartender backs off, giggling.

“I really don’t, you know.”

“I believe you!” Felix juts his lower lip out. “Besides, you can’t, anyway.”

“Yeah, exact-… wait, what?”

“As in,” Felix flaps ineffectually. “We’re spirits, and he’s human, you know? You’re going to have to cross the bridge to the afterlife, and he’ll still be here.”

“…yeah,” Hyunjin says, deflating minutely. “…exactly.”

The bartender watches him closely for a second, before propping up his chin on two hands. “So ah…what’s your deal, anyway? Why are you here?”

The abrupt topic change gives Hyunjin some pause. But then Felix bounces up, waving his hand. “Ooh, I’ll go first! I’m waiting for someone,” he beams shyly. “To go to the afterlife together with them.”

“Is that allowed?” Hyunjin raises a brow. It didn’t seem like a request that someone like Minho or that killer goddess woman from last night would be all that hot about entertaining.

Still, a part of him adored the thought of a feeling so deep. To love someone so much that the only way to go would be together, to walk together over the bridge and on to the cycle of reincarnation hand in hand.

“Why not? If this person is the reason why I’m here?” Felix pouts, starting to polish a glass. “Anyway, now it’s your turn. I mean, only if you’re comfortable with it, of course!”

Hyunjin circles the surface of his coffee glass, cold and dripping with condensation. “I was poisoned. By someone in my dance crew.”

“Ooooh,” Felix goes wide eyed, a hand over his mouth. “So what are you gonna do? Watch their career fall into ruin? Make sure their bloodline dies out before you leave?”

“What? No,” Hyunjin shakes his head, genuinely taken aback for a second, before thinking about it. “I mean, not saying it wouldn’t help me sleep a little better at night, but-…”

Felix scuttles out from behind the bar, then, undoing his apron and tossing it over the swinging door, before grabbing Hyunjin. “Come on!”

“What - where are we going?”

“Chan always says we should have these conversations with lots of hugs,” Felix drags them both over to the bean bags by the fireplace, and plops them down before grabbing a paper box. “And tissues!”

Hyunjin laughs, pushing the box away slightly. “I’m not going to _cry_ , Felix.”

Stomach twisting in apprehension, he glances back quickly to where Seungmin’s seated, relieved to see him still deep in his work.

“So if it’s not about the person who killed you,” Felix sits down beside him, gazing up at him with wide eyes. “Then what’s it about?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Hyunjin sighs, thinking back to the afternoon at the dance studio. “Maybe it wasn’t ever really about dying. Does that make sense?”

Felix lies back down on the beanbag, frowning at the ceiling as his lips form the words soundlessly. “Mm…yeah! I mean, death hurts because of what we leave behind, right?”

“Well…what if it wasn’t because of what we left behind? What if it was something you…lost, long before that?”

The other ghost looks at him for a long while, a crease in his brow. “How?”

“Sometimes,” Hyunjin trails off, looking into the fire. “Okay, never mind, I don’t really get it myself, anyway.”

“Talking helps,” the bartender says hopefully. “Or writing. Or dancing! You have to let it out somehow, right?”

Hyunjin lets out a dry laugh. “Yeah, like, having that something that helps you accept that all the bad things in the world happen, even though you don’t understand why?”

Felix nods slowly, watching him.

“For me, when I was alive,” Hyunjin feels his throat go dry. “It was dancing, you know? Dancing helped me forget how much wrong there was in life for a while.”

They both sit in silence, staring into the fire, for a while.

_Like a moth, wings burned full of holes, fluttering towards the flame all the same._

The bean bag rustles between them, then, as Felix shifts closer. “Do you mind if I see?”

Hyunjin blinks away the reverie, looking over. “See what?”

“Your dancing,” Felix looks hopeful, wriggling his phone out of his pocket. “Like a practice video, or something, you know?”

“It’s – I was just in a high school crew, it’s nothing much.”

“I’m sure you’re great! Actually, I’m,” Felix looks sheepish. “I’m trying to learn how to dance. Or re-learn. I didn’t think styles would change so much over the past forty years. Will you teach me?”

Hyunjin remains silent for a while, lips sewn shut. There’s something _about_ Felix, though, that makes it difficult to say no to him.

He eventually sighs, holding out his hand for Felix’s phone. “No guarantee I’ll be able to find any of our old videos, those were from way back.”

He drags it out, searching up the name of the crew and scrolling through the videos that show up. The newer ones aren’t even at the top, like he’d hoped – all of them are old. He hits one at random and passes the phone back to Felix, looking away.

As the tinny hiphop music starts from the phone, Hyunjin’s eyes land on Seungmin. The other boy is still hunched over his work, but his pen isn’t moving anymore. Hyunjin wonders, confused, why he's stopped.

“Is this you?” Felix smiles, pointing to someone on the screen. “Wow, you’re _centre!_ ”

Hyunjin feels a twist in his gut. Of all the songs they’d done before, the compilation had landed on one of his favourite choreographies, a strong, thrilling hiphop song that’d topped the charts that year, and handpicked for their showcase. It was as powerful and haughty as it was classy.

When the crew tallied their votes for centre position, it was the first time anyone ever swept all the votes in the history of their club. _“This is your song_ ,” Hyunjin remembers Momo smiling. _“You deserve this_.”

Felix bounces up, frowning at the phone and already beginning to mark out the choreography.

“You’re good at this,” Hyunjin comments, arms folded tightly across his chest. “Didn’t you say you were just learning?”

“Do dance lessons from 40 years ago count?” Felix laughs, when he flubs a move, reaching over to skip back in the video. “Ah, this is so hard! Let me try again.”

Hyunjin just sits and waits, as Felix breezes his way through the first few beats of the song. The other ghost only stops when he gets to the verse, a series of clean, precise upper body isolations and footwork, pausing to frown at the screen. “What is that _move_?”

The other spirit remains silent first, just watching as Felix struggles through it for a few more seconds, before sighing and standing. “Hang on, you’re paying too much attention to your legwork. The point of this verse is the isolations. Try just the upper body.”

“Like this?”

Hyunjin purses his lips. “Yeah, kind of? You have to hit it on the upbeat.”

“It looks so simple,” Felix complains, trying again.

“It’s what they say, isn’t it?” Hyunjin mumbles, watching from aside. “Simple choreographies mean you can’t hide your mistakes.”

Felix has stopped dancing, at this point, crouching down to look at his phone. He beams up at Hyunjin. “You must’ve practiced really hard, Hyunjin-ah.”

The bartender looks back at his phone, tracing the edge of the screen. “When I was alive, my teacher used to say – dancers are people for whom dancing is harder than it is for others. I didn’t really understand what she meant, until I couldn't dance anymore. It’s just…the only way we know how to feel anymore, you know?” Felix pauses the video, looking up. “Hyunjin?”

He springs up immediately, then, looking distressed, fumbling around for the tissues. “Oh, no, oh no, don’t cry, Hyunjin, I’m sorry-…”

“I’m not crying,” Hyunjin lets out a breathy laugh, rubbing his eyes as he thumps back down on the bean bag. There’s a lump in his throat that won’t go away. “I’m _fine_ , it’s just-…”

But then he feels someone sinking in next to him, and suddenly he can’t stop the tears anymore.

“He’s right,” Seungmin says quietly. “You worked hard, Hyunjin.”

“Sorry,” Hyunjin chokes out, trying to smile. “I – this usually doesn’t happen, I’m sorry.”

 _Get a grip,_ he tells himself fiercely, except the harder he tries, the more he can't stop crying.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Seungmin murmurs, rubbing his back, as Felix scuttles off to get some water. His voice feels like a blanket, warm and safe.

“It’s just – when I was alive…dancing was all I ever wanted to do, and,” Hyunjin hiccups. “I thought joining that stupid crew, talking about everything we wanted to do once we got out of high school,” his breath catches. “I thought they’d understand. And sometimes I’d believe it, but most of the time I just felt so _lonely_.”

Every word feels like a mess coming out of Hyunjin, none of it able to really convey the grief that’s settled on his chest, but Seungmin listens anyway, dark eyes fixed on Hyunjin, absorbing every word like it’s precious to him.

“And when you start _hating_ the only thing that’s been keeping you sane since you were born,” Hyunjin wipes his eyes on his sleeve. “It just f-felt like I should’ve died a long time ago.”

“Sometimes it just takes a few rotten eggs to make a bad batch,” Seungmin says quietly. “Life won’t always be like this.”

Hyunjin presses the tissues against his eyes, shoulders hunched in, feeling his face burn. “S-sorry.”

Then Seungmin lifts his arm from Hyunjin’s back.

Sniffling, Hyunjin feels bereft for just the slightest moment, before he feels warmth envelope his other hand, Seungmin holding it securely between both of his, thumb rubbing comforting little patterns against his skin.

“It’s okay to feel sad when you lose something,” he says softly. "It just shows how much you really loved it."

That night, Hyunjin cries for what feels like hours, until his eyes hurt and his throat grows raw, and his cheeks are stained with tears. Yet inside him, it feels like something wakes up, something that’d been suffocated years before he’d died, even.

The moon and the stars look different in the sky as he stands in the garden with Felix later, a few minutes after Seungmin’s left to go home.

“You should go get some rest,” Felix smiles, patting his back as they start heading back to the hotel. “I know we’ll never really know when it’ll happen, but…I hope you receive your flower soon. You deserve it.”

Huddled up in a blanket, Hyunjin glances down at his hand, the phantom warmth from tonight still lingering on his skin, and replies on autopilot, his mind already far, far away.

“Yeah. I guess.”


	7. 007.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the actual double update 2/2, please read the previous chapter if you haven't!

A part of Hyunjin expects some earth-shattering change over the next couple of days. That maybe he’d get beamed up into the afterlife without warning, or wake up to a downpour of flowers.

But he just ends up staying in his room, or following Felix around during his shift, waiting for Seungmin to come back from school.

It’s not to say things haven’t changed – he does feel a lot lighter, in general, like something heavy’s been rolled off his back. But all it does is make him restless. Like he’s a caged tiger in the middle of the jungle, pawing at the rusting padlock on the bars.

All this changes, however, on the second night, when Seungmin shows up at his door with a mysterious smile.

“Do you have anything to do tonight?”

Hyunjin, wrapped up in a blanket burrito and watching Youtube videos, tries to look like the answer would at least maybe be a yes.

“No,” he says curiously. “Why?”

“There’s an arts festival happening in Myeongdong tonight. There’ll be light displays, and music,” Seungmin has this way of talking when he’s feeling shy. He rocks a little on the tips of his toes, and his words are all huddled together, like each one is embarrassed to be on its own. “I was wondering, since it won’t be weird for me to have my camera out and everything …if you’d like to go and see? Together?”

Oh. _Oh._

Cool Hyunjin takes the reins, then, as always. “Mm…sure.”

 _AAAAAHHHHHHH_ , Inner Hyunjin says.

“I’m going down to say hi to Chan and Felix,” Seungmin points a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll see you at the lobby…?”

“I’ll be there in ten,” Hyunjin says, then instantly regrets it. He needs ten minutes alone for the mental preparation. _AAAAAHHHHHHH_ , Inner Hyunjin says again.

“Okay, well, see you,” Seungmin gives a little wave as he backs out, the door closing behind him.

Hyunjin drops his phone onto the mattress. Then he buries his face in his pillow, smiling so hard it aches.

*

It’s just a fifteen minute walk down from the hotel to the shopping streets, but Seungmin already has his camera slung around his neck, talking about how he’s glad his math quiz is finally over and he can spend more time on the hotel now.

“Sometimes I wonder how many spirits I’ve passed by without noticing, because I couldn’t see them,” Seungmin muses aloud. “It’s kind of funny to hold up a camera when you’re just walking down a street, or in a supermarket.”

“Mmh?” Hyunjin says, a little distracted himself. It’s the first time he’s been somewhere this crowded since he died, and every so often he’d spot a ghost just walking through the throngs of people, usually following someone. Occasionally they’d stop and look at each other, each wondering why the other is here, and what it is they’re looking for.

“Now I can see you, though,” Seungmin peers through his camera, smiling. Then he looks up, blinking. “You look really good on camera, you know?”

Hyunjin lets out a disbelieving sound, trying to compress his internal panic. _How can he just say things like that??_ “Um, thanks? Glad to know I wasn’t voted pageant king for nothing.”

“You were _pageant king_?” Seungmin’s eyes widen.

“Excuse me,” Hyunjin feigns offence. “There’s no need to sound so _surprised._ ”

“I didn’t know,” Seungmin sounds a little flustered. “But you’re so _nice_. And kind.”

Hyunjin’s eyes narrow, as they turn into a busier avenue. The smell of street food wafts towards them, savoury and honey-sweet. “Who’s pageant king for your year? Let me guess. It’s that jerk who pushed you into a locker for your math book.”

Seungmin sighs, arms folded across his chest. “No, it’s his best friend, Jaemin.”

“Is he a jerk, too?”

“I wouldn’t say a _jerk_ , I mean, he’s – he’s into animal rights, and he signed up for after-school tutoring, and everything,” the high school senior is biting his lower lip, starting to mumble again.

 _Smells like a fake bitch to me._ “Sounds like he’s not all that nice inside.”

“He um,” Seungmin seems to crumble a little. “I think he outed me to our batch. It’s kind of my fault, really,” he says quickly. “We were chatting during our after-school tutoring for community hours six months ago and I accidentally slipped up and said I thought one of our baseball seniors was attractive. He said he was cool with it and wouldn’t tell anyone, but,” the other boy shrugs. “Honestly, whatever, it doesn’t really matter-…”

Hyunjin is absolutely _boiling_. “What a _dick_ ,” he seethes. And trash like _that_ got voted for pageant king?

“It’s _okay_ , I mean, I’ve got Lia, and some people like Chaeryeong and Ryujin don’t really care about that stuff, and Jeongin’s known since we were in middle school,” Seungmin says, before glancing over nervously. “You – you don’t mind, do you? That I’m…like that?”

“What, me?” Hyunjin’s brain stutters, rollercoastering from rage to surprise in a hot second. “Yeah, no, I’m cool with that.”

Seungmin’s still looking down. “Okay.”

“No, I mean, _really_ ,” the dancer emphasises. “People just like who they like, it’s the way it should be.”

“Yeah?” The other boy’s staring down the street, now alive with people. “I wish everyone thought the way you did.”

Hyunjin suddenly really wishes he could be seen, so it wouldn’t just be Seungmin, standing by himself on this street in that secondhand grey hoodie, a ratty camera around his neck. He mumbles out the first thing he can think of: “Sometimes it just takes a few assholes to make a bad batch. Life won’t always be like this.”

Seungmin looks up in his direction with a breathy laugh, the corners of his lips turning up in the tiniest smile. “Thanks.”

And as if on cue, then, the white lightbulbs strung merrily across the street behind him light up, like little suns against the blue-purple dusk falling around them.

Eyes wide, Hyunjin turns, taking in the sight of the street, the rising bubbles of chatter, as the balls of light hanging between streetlamps and over stall banners blink awake, all the way down. A nostalgic, childish excitement inflates within him, like a hot air balloon, warming him from his chest to the tips of his fingers and toes.

He turns back, about to excitedly point down the street towards the sound of music, when he sees the other boy taking a photo.

“The lights are really pretty,” Seungmin beams, turning the camera around to show Hyunjin. The quality of the photo surprises Hyunjin – it’s him, loose locks of dark hair framing his face, eyes both searching and smiling at the same time. Around his head, the lights float like fairies.

It’s not like those HD photos they used to take when he was with the crew - there’s a grainy, polaroid quality to it, something to do with the saturation and the contrast that he doesn’t know enough about to explain.

But something about the coexisting imperfection and beauty of the shot comforts Hyunjin. For the first time, he’s looking at himself and not only liking what he sees, but actually believing it, too.

“Let’s keep going?” Seungmin glances down the street. “I think the music showcase is starting soon.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin nods, a little breathless. His feelings are all in overdrive – a little too brave, a little too happy, and it’s as strange as it is uncanny.

Maybe that’s what makes him take Seungmin’s hand, holding it gingerly in his. When the other boy looks over in surprise, a rush of emotions skitter through him.

“So we can’t lose each other,” he reasons. Maybe it’s a good thing Seungmin can’t see his face, or he’d be able to pair it with the tremor in his voice to figure out what’s going on.

As it is, even _he_ doesn’t know what’s going on. All he’s sure of is that he feels like there’s a part of him that fits with Seungmin, and part of Seungmin that fits with him.

“Okay,” Seungmin nods, still looking a little awed, one hand on his camera. After a pause, he murmurs out an: “It’s nice.”

“What?”

“You seem happier,” the other boy stops himself, then, as though thinking about it. “And more of everything else, too. You feel…Hyunjin-er,” he laughs. “Does that make sense?”

Hyunjin doesn’t understand, but all the same, it does. _How does that even work?_

It doesn’t worry him, though. Not with the comforting weight of Seungmin’s hand in his.

They walk on, threading through people and the various light-ups scattered around the street, following the sound of the music, thrumming in the distance.

Every so often, one of them would stop to look at something, to read the plaques beside the light-up artworks, or for Seungmin to snap another photo. Until there’s a whole album of photos in that camera, etching their night down in lines and colour.

A picture of Hyunjin against the dusk and orange lights, Hyunjin looking with interest at a couple’s candied strawberries and watermelon juice, Hyunjin crouched by the side of the road, petting a cat.

They eventually stop by at one of the little squares of greenery in the middle of town midway through, fairy lights dressing up the topiaries dotted around the grass and red brick. Hyunjin himself is perched on a low wall, holding the camera while Seungmin gets a strawberry milkshake.

Leisurely, Hyunjin looks through the photos, feeling a bubbling warmth inside of him, sweet and sticky like caramel. The photos are perfect, except for one thing - there’s too little Seungmin, Hyunjin thinks critically.

Raising the camera, he searches for Seungmin through the viewfinder, finding him waiting expectantly for his milkshake at the stall.

Maybe it’s something about tonight, or the camera, that fills the image with layers of nostalgia, of affection. Hyunjin manages to get a good one of Seungmin, holding the milkshake and poking a paper straw through the domed lid, smile lit up in gold and hues of twilit blue.

Smiling absently to himself, Hyunjin scrolls forward through the photos to find it again. But his thumb must slip on the cross keys, or something, because the screen skips and loops back to the first photo on the camera’s memory card.

Pursing his lips, he glances up to where Seungmin’s paying for the drink, wondering if he’d mind Hyunjin going through his personal photos like this. But something about the picture drags his attention back to the screen.

It’s Seungmin, in his high school uniform and blazer, in front of a lit-up birthday cake. Behind him are what appear to be his parents, and beside him, there’s an older man, also grinning widely, an arm around the boy’s shoulder.

Seungmin’s words echo, then, loud and clear in his mind. _My older brother left me this before he passed away_. _I feel like he would’ve wanted me to do this_.

_Is this…?_

Hyunjin’s lost for a moment, staring at the picture. There’s something about the both of them, the same blithe honesty in both their eyes, that makes Hyunjin wonder how someone like him could’ve died so young.

“Hyunjin?”

The spirit startles, quickly hitting the shutter button so the image disappears. “Did you, um, get your milkshake?”

“Yep. I almost couldn’t find you,” Seungmin sits beside him, sucking on the straw. “Were you looking through the photos from tonight?”

“Yep,” Hyunjin says, face reddening, thankfully unseen as he hands the camera over. “I – I took a few of you, too.”

“Wow,” the senior breathes. “These-…” he glances up. “These are really nice.”

“You’re so busy taking pictures of everyone, someone should take pictures of you too,” Hyunjin mumbles, standing and brushing off his pants for lack of anything better to do.

“Well, sometimes it’s just easier being the one behind the camera,” Seungmin loops the camera around his neck again, as they continue walking. Hyunjin can see lights, now, filling the sky in the distance.

The faraway music is growing louder, bass thumping through the concrete, up the soles of Hyunjin’s feet. Again, the restless tiger inside him paces, eyeing the lock on its cage.

“So…” he shrugs, to distract himself as they walk. “Felix told me you always bring ghosts back to the hotel.”

“Mm hm,” Seungmin nods. “Since six months ago, yes.”

Hyunjin looks away, trying to make it sound casual. “So, do you always take pictures of _all_ of them, or…?”

“If they let me,” Seungmin laughs, taking another sip of his milkshake. “Not usually this many, though,” he admits, looking at his camera again.

Hyunjin leans over, voice light. “I guess that means I’m special, right?”

Seungmin sideeyes him. Again, it’s that mischievous puppy look, playful and harmless at the same time, and it makes Hyunjin’s heart do silly, loopy things.

“They’re usually not this nosy, either.”

Hyunjin makes an indignant noise. “I’m not _nosy_ ,” he sulks. “I just care, okay?”

“About me?”

“Why not?” Hyunjin huffs, having just about had it. “I don’t know if you realise this, but you’ve been bringing me around the hotel for the past week, you followed me back to the dance studio where I almost _killed_ you, and you held my hands and listened to me cry for thirty minutes two nights ago. I’d be hard pressed _not_ to care for you, Kim Seungmin.”

How Hyunjin manages to get through all that and _not_ spontaneously combust out of embarrassment, he has no idea, but it’s all worth it for the look on Seungmin’s face.

“O-oh,” he’s _blushing_ , a cute, rosy colour rising in his neck and his ears. “Okay.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin folds his arms across his chest, not really sure what else to say. “Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.”

Seungmin laughs, immediately covering his mouth when a passing couple throw him a strange look. In that moment, Hyunjin makes up his mind.

He takes Seungmin’s hand again, just like before, except this time he laces their fingers together, till the other boy’s warmth is pressed up right against his skin, between his fingers. If he focuses hard enough, he thinks he might be able to feel Seungmin’s heartbeat, thrumming like a butterfly’s wings in the palm of his hands.

The other boy looks over, eyes unseeing but full of uninhibited wonder, and in that moment, all Hyunjin wants is to be able to do this again, for a long time.

He wants to know more about Seungmin, to walk under the canopies of fairy lights here like every other couple, whispering to each other about the stories and the people that make up who they are.

For a second, he knows both of them are thinking of the same thing – of that elusive flower hanging just out of Hyunjin’s reach, and the bridge to the afterlife he’ll eventually have to cross.

But he’ll deal with that when it comes. And for now, Hyunjin will walk with Seungmin.

*

They reach the showcase late, but so does everyone else, so they get a good standing spot and half a performance by a budding idol singer.

Hyunjin leans against Seungmin’s back, watching them set up for the last performance in the centre of the crowd through the display screen on the other boy’s camera. Their hands are still linked, held loosely beside them.

It’s a dance performance up next, Hyunjin realises, from the way they’re setting up the speakers, and later as the crew runs out into the centre, assembling in a neat formation on the concrete.

The noise dips, and for a moment, they’re all hanging on a precipice. Then the music starts, a familiar bass pounding like electricity.

And just like that, Hyunjin is snared – it’s _the song_. His song. The same one he’d shown Felix that night. _What a coincidence_ , Hyunjin chuckles to himself, that they’d choose a song this old for their finale performance _._

“Ah, Felix would love this,” he muses out loud.

“Mm, nah, he’s scared of leaving the hotel. Besides,” Seungmin’s shoulders shake from laughter, and the spirit lifts his head in confusion. “I think you’re loving it enough,” the boy giggles, hand drifting back to rest on Hyunjin’s thigh. “I can feel you dancing.”

Hyunjin hadn’t even noticed. “This always happens,” he shrugs, though he’s barely paying attention to what he’s saying, eyes fixed on the performance. “I just start dancing when I hear music I like.”

It’s a girl taking centre position, this time, wearing the requisite black leather suspenders and white shirt, hair French braided back on half her head.

Hyunjin watches her decimate the string of difficult isolations to the resounding applause from the audience, and when she smiles, breathless and exhilarated, his lips tug into one of his own. _She must’ve worked really hard to get those right_.

Then, Seungmin turns back. “Why don’t you dance too?”

Hyunjin blinks. “What?”

“Dance with them,” the boy’s eyes are sparkling and hopeful. In the hand that isn’t holding Hyunjin’s, he clutches the camera. “You remember the song, right?”

“Yeah, but I can’t just, _join_ them,” Hyunjin splutters.

“Why not?” Seungmin implores. “No one will be able to see it. Just you.”

“I-…” Hyunjin’s voice is drowned out, by the bass of the music, and for a moment, he stops thinking, just feels the electricity of the song zip through his muscles. And he realises, he could.

Seungmin lets go of his hand, then, pushing him lightly forward. “Go and dance.”

The spirit stumbles awkwardly into the centre, inching out of the way as the dancers rush by him, all perfectly locked into the beat of the choreography. The song’s about to enter the second chorus, now. The audience is loving it, if the rising cheer and ripples of movement are anything to go by.

 _No one can see you,_ Hyunjin thinks self-consciously. _No one can see you_. The boys and girls in the crowd keep cheering, oblivious to what’s going on.

Hands folded in front of him, he tries to think back to the choreography, feebly following the movements of everyone else, as the beat builds up. It’s like the first few seconds on a bicycle after years of disuse, wobbly and unsure.

Then, like a wave crashing down on him, the rest of his body seems to catch up to what his brain is trying to do, a mix of _I actually remember this_ and _holy shit, I really love this part of the song_. Suddenly, something inside takes over.

He finds himself right behind the centre in the crew’s arrow formation through the chorus, muscles fumbling through the finer bits of the choreography, but still overly excited to catch up. Like he’s sprinting in an open field after years of being asleep.

The crowd’s cheers are getting louder and more raucous as the song climbs towards its peak. Hyunjin hears laughter, and realises it’s him, him and the other dancers, just living for this moment.

He searches for Seungmin, finding him immediately with his camera in the crowd, like a lighthouse in an ocean. He’s smiling so wide his eyes are reduced to dark crescents. Immediately, the elation in Hyunjin’s bloodstream melts into something fonder, something stronger.

Then he glances a few people to Seungmin’s left, to the woman wearing a strawberry neck scarf and a white dress. She’s not screaming or jumping like the other people in the crowd, just watching.

Watching Hyunjin, he realises.

Normally, this would be cause for some concern, but Hyunjin dismisses it. There are probably tons of ghosts around the area, and this one happened to stop by to watch the show.

The song enters its last chorus, and Hyunjin glides into it perfectly, now. Part of him is sorry that the song is ending, but most of him is bursting with passion, excited to do it again, again, again. For a moment, he locks eyes with the centre girl, and it feels like he can see everything that led up to this second, all the pain and the joy.

He finishes the song with a flourish, metaphorical pulse thundering in his chest, emotions overflowing from every pore in his body, as flowers and stuffed toys begin raining down from the crowd.

Excited to tell everything to Seungmin, he turns back, only for his gaze to catch on the woman who’d been watching just now. She’s come out of the crowd towards him, still smiling, red lipstick like the surface of an apple against the powder of her skin.

Then she extends a fair hand, holding a lily.

 _Is that for me?_ He trudges over, breathless amidst the chaos still happening around them, and, after a moment’s hesitation, takes the flower.

“Thank you,” he says, wondering if she’ll tell him who she is. But the woman just beams, carefully rearranging her woven basket of lilies.

He glances over at Seungmin, wondering if he can see this, grin disappearing once he sees the look on the other boy’s face.

When he looks back, the woman is gone.

Seungmin’s expression is unreadable as Hyunjin approaches him, but he’s smiling. Around them, the crowd continues to scream.

“That was Nayeon. She gives flowers to the dead,” the boy says, over the noise, and the lily between them. Ever so slightly, his smile trembles.

“You can go now. To the afterlife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> goodnight america!!! 
> 
> ok (un)fortunately there's still... a lot of members we haven't brought out yet, and i was contracted for at least three (3) seungjin kisses at the start of this fic, so... we've got some runtime to go, bois!
> 
> let me know your thoughts and theories! ;u; really interested to see how you guys think it'll go after the events of these two chapters :') 
> 
> stay safe and stay at home!
> 
> p.s. just an fyi, as mentioned on twt, that i'll be taking a break from posting this to focus on cleaning up my other fics. will be putting out updates on twitter! see you guys in a few weeks ;;


	8. 008.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungmin’s expression is unreadable as Hyunjin approaches him, but he’s smiling. Around them, the crowd continues to scream.
> 
> “That was Nayeon. She gives flowers to the dead,” the boy says, over the noise, and the lily between them. Ever so slightly, his smile trembles.
> 
> “You can go now. To the afterlife.”

“I hear the ride’s fun. You’ll be at the bridge after you come out of the tunnel, and all you have to do is cross it.”

All Hyunjin sees in his periphery are the purple, blue and blacks of trees. Under their feet, the leaf bed is like a pillow, every step feeling softer and heavier.

“None of us really know what it’s like over there, even Minho, but it’s where we’ll all have to go in the end,” Seungmin continues. Hyunjin wonders if the other boy feels the same way he does, like he’s holding onto these last few minutes as tight as he can.

The entrance of the brick tunnel materialises in the distance through the foliage, and Hyunjin can hear the humming of an engine, waiting to take him away. There are so many things he wants to say, but can’t.

 _Will you be okay?_ It’s painful to think about Seungmin missing him when he’s gone, but even more so to think of being forgotten.

They stop near where the road begins. Talking to Felix by the driver’s seat, there’s a man in a black robe and short, dark hair, with a sharp face and a sharper gaze. It must be the Grim Reaper Chan had told him about last night.

“I guess this is goodbye,” Seungmin faces him with a small smile. He’s been holding onto his camera, hung around his neck, this whole time. Hyunjin wishes he would hold his hand instead, but he supposes that would be too cruel.

“I don’t want it to be goodbye,” Hyunjin mumbles. “I just met you.”

“This is the way things are,” the other boy’s voice sounds so heavy. For a moment, Hyunjin just wants to make him smile.

“Time to go,” the Reaper says shortly, voice carrying clearly through the dawn air.

Seungmin looks at him. On the outside, he seems to be taking this whole thing a lot better than the spirit is, even though Hyunjin’s the one who won’t remember a thing about him the moment he crosses that bridge. “Maybe we’ll meet in another life.”

Felix hurries over, then, still wearing his bartender uniform, to throw his arms around Hyunjin. “I knew you’d make it! Better get over there soon, Changbin hates waiting.”

“Haha, yeah,” Hyunjin casts one last look at Seungmin, patting Felix’s back. “Thanks for everything, ‘Lix. I hope you get your flower soon, too.”

Felix and Seungmin stand at the periphery of Hyunjin’s vision as he inches reluctantly towards the car. With a hint of impatience, the back door of the midnight black BMW opens on its own, its owner standing by the driver’s seat with the air of someone who has a hundred other places to be at the moment.

For a second, he thinks of begging. Of running back to Minho’s office at the top of that hotel and imploring him to let Hyunjin stay, just to spend a while longer with Seungmin.

But even if he does…then what? He’ll just be running on borrowed time, forcing his way into the best years of Seungmin’s life, only to leave again eventually. Every second Hyunjin stays will just make it harder for Seungmin to move on.

Chest full of stone, Hyunjin ducks his head and slides into the backseat.

Or, at least, he tries to.

Because right then everything goes golden, something pushes him both firmly and politely, and the next thing he knows, he’s flat on the forest floor outside the car.

Hyunjin sits up, stunned. “ _Ow_?” He says, momentarily conflicted between confusion and pain, and eventually settling on injustice.

“What are you doing?” Oh, the Grim Reaper sounds _really_ annoyed now, walking over to his side of the vehicle.

“I can’t get in!” Hyunjin points accusingly at the car. “It kicked me out!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the Reaper takes his arm (brr, cold), hauling him up surprisingly easily, before attempting to slot him into the backseat.

 _Boing_.

This time, Hyunjin ends up headfirst in a roadside bush. By the time he manages to roll over and free himself, he just manages to catch a bubble of gold dissipating gently around the car door, as though mocking him.

Brushing leaves out of his hair, he spots Felix, doubled over and laughing, and beside him, Seungmin stands, an imperceptible frown on his face. He looks down at the camera around his neck, then back up, both confusion and realisation hitting him about the same time that it hits Hyunjin.

Beside the car, the Reaper looks both baffled and irritable. He probably doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this shit. For a long while, he glances between Hyunjin and the tunnel, considering his options.

Then he opens the front door, picking up the thin black spear from the driver’s seat, and deftly makes a slice in the air, pulling at it like he’d just cut a piece of cloth.

Foreign sounds and lights begin pouring out of that slit in the air – it’s from the hotel lobby, Hyunjin realises, still getting leaves out of his hair.

“General Manager Chan,” the Reaper says. “Come down to the tunnel, there’s something you need to see.”

There’s a long pause on the other side. “Will Minho need to know about this?”

The Reaper grimaces.

“Fuck,” he sighs, after a long pause. “Yeah, probably.”

*

“So let me get this straight, Changbin. You woke me up before my alarm, had me miss my breakfast and _two_ Saturday morning fitness appointments, for this?”

Hyunjin sits awkwardly on the plush royal purple couch (which also has cat paw legs and stuffed bunnies) in Minho’s office, hands folded on his lap. On his right is Seungmin, stiff as a board in his grey hoodie and jeans, and on his left is the Grim Reaper. On the adjacent couch is Chan, the most normal person in the room, and at his desk, legs on the table and still in his silk pyjamas, is Minho.

There’s a tea set on the table. The Reaper’s black spear is sitting neatly in the umbrella stand by the door.

“This is…unprecedented,” Chan says delicately. “Of course, I’ve only been here six months, so we thought you might have a better idea of what’s going on.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” The Reaper insists. “Hyunjin received his flower from Nayeon, it’s real, we checked. Why can’t he get on the limo?”

Hyunjin’s trying not to get distracted by Felix, very conspicuously eavesdropping through a crack in the office’s double doors.

“You tried the bus?” Minho says, over his porcelain teacup. It’s part of a matching set on his desk that’d been brought in by a terrified looking server, with a teapot and a squat jar of tea leaves.

“He couldn’t get through the door.”

“What about the tunnel itself?”

“It kicked him out.”

“What’s _it_?”

“It was like a…a shield. Made of gold,” Chan frowns. “It just bounced him off. Have you ever seen anything like this?”

Hyunjin tries not to notice when the Reaper and Minho simultaneously side-eye Seungmin.

“You think that someo – something, could’ve caused this?” Changbin asks.

Minho is still looking disdainfully between Hyunjin and Seungmin, like a teacher spotting two middle school students wearing couple bracelets and holding hands during assembly.

Then he sighs, taking his legs off the table.

“It means he’s not done here yet,” Minho says dismissively, taking a sip of red tea.

The Reaper argues. “But his flower-…”

“He’s not done means he’s not done,” The owner says irritably. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Changbin? Ashes to collect?”

“I’ve been around for five hundred years,” The Reaper fumes. “And I’ve _never_ seen-…”

“Now see Changbin, I’ve been around for a _thousand_.”

“Well, I’ve been around for twenty-seven years,” Chan says firmly. “And now I think we just need some time to think this through, maybe consult the deities if it comes down to it. Hyunjin, we’ll do our best, but it might be a while before we can get you through that tunnel,” he says apologetically.

“Oh, it’s okay,” the Hyunjin in question waves magnanimously, looping an arm through Seungmin’s comfortably. Or at least, as comfortably as he can, with Seungmin being as rigid as a plank of wood. “I guess I’ll just have to ah, stay here until we figure it out.”

“Now if you all would kindly get out of my office,” Minho gestures towards the door, which swings open pointedly. The couches then gently tip them out onto the floor, except for Chan, who stands before this happens, and the Reaper, whose end of the couch is decidedly more violent.

Hyunjin tiptoes out behind Chan, almost in the clear, until Minho speaks again. “Except for Seungmin.”

The ghost whirls around, just in time to see Seungmin turning back reluctantly to Minho’s desk, before the double doors close again, and Hyunjin’s left standing in the adjacent room outside.

“…told you not to do things that’ll get you in trouble,” Chan is quietly chastising Felix at one side of Minho’s waiting room, the boy looking a bit (only a bit) guilty about getting caught eavesdropping. “Why are you here?”

“Sorry, I was just really worried about Hyunjin!” Felix speeds over, stopping only, in an unexpected but strangely unsurprising turn of events, to wave shyly at Changbin. “Hey hyung~”

“Hn. Keep me updated on Hyunjin. What a nuisance,” the Reaper grumbles, spear slicing another neat hole in the fabric of reality, this time to somewhere in the countryside, before he disappears again.

Felix throws his arms around Hyunjin, then, almost bowling him over. “I heard everything! So what are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know,” Hyunjin says honestly, still slightly disoriented by the concept of anyone addressing the Grim Reaper as _hyung_. He tries not to let it sound as lackadaisical as it does. “I was kind of hoping your boss would have an answer.”

“Oh, I think Minho has an idea, he wouldn’t have let you go so fast if he didn’t,” Chan shakes his head. “Don’t worry, we’ll find out what’s going on, and Minho will ask the deities if we need to.”

“Minho, is he…” Hyunjin glances back warily. “Always like that?”

“He’s a scary boss, but deep down he’s a really good guy! Besides, _always_ is a tough question, he’s been around for like a billion years,” Felix shrugs, gesturing to the portraits on the wall. “Maybe he was super chill in the 1500s, you know?”

“Is he waiting for his flower, too?” Hyunjin asks absently, looking at the wall.

“Of sorts. You’ll find out in bits and pieces the more you get to know him,” Chan pats Hyunjin’s back. “Stick with Felix, Minho’s really bad at scolding him.”

“Hey! _Hyung._ ”

Hyunjin’s distracted, though, by the paintings – the walls are _covered_ with them, all portraits in ink on yellowed paper to black and white photos to rich oil paintings, of Minho sitting in the foreground, with a different person standing behind on his right in each one. “Are these…?”

“Those are all the managers of the hotel!” Felix points excitedly, scuttling over to point at a neat space on top of a lampstand. “Chan-hyung’s gonna be here.”

“Huh,” Hyunjin draws closer, squinting at the portrait beside the space where Chan is going to be. “Hey,” he points. “Isn’t that-…”

“Felix, didn’t your shift start twenty minutes ago?” Chan interrupts him, checking his watch. The bartender groans.

“But this was an emergency!”

“No excuses. It’s only right to follow your duty hours.”

“Okay,” Felix grumbles, before giving Chan a quick and only relatively awkward hug. “Bye Hyunjin! See you around!”

He sprints out of the room, pausing and doubling back twice when he gets lost, before his footsteps finally disappear down the corridor.

“Sorry. I’m not sure if Felix knows yet,” Chan apologises, glancing back at the portrait Hyunjin had been looking at. “You were saying?”

“Huh?” Hyunjin’s confused for a moment. “No, I was just thinking, the man in the portrait here…I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before.”

Chan eyes him. “That was the previous manager, before me,” Chan runs a thumb over the inscription on the dark wood frame. “His name was Kim Wonpil.”

The spirit’s eyes widen. “Kim Wonpil,” he breathes as the recognition _finally_ sinks in. “Isn’t that…Seungmin’s older brother?”

_The birthday photo on Seungmin’s camera. That’s where I saw him._

The manager looks surprised. “You know about him?”

“Seungmin told me he passed away,” Hyunjin mumbles. “He never told me…his brother worked here.”

Neither of them say anything for a while. Then Chan reaches out, straightening the portrait. “I never met him. He vacated the position before I came in,” he says quietly. “But from what I hear from Minho, and Changbin…he was a good man. When I first met Nayeon, she told me about him,” he chuckles. “She said he was a man that was full of love.”

“That’s funny.”

Chan glances over. “Why?”

Hyunjin takes a step back, still looking at the portrait of the smiling man, before shrugging slightly.

“Just thinking…maybe that’s where Seungmin gets it from.”

“Seungmin must miss him a lot,” Chan muses, before reaching over to pat Hyunjin on the back. “You should head off first, I don’t think Minho and Seungmin will be done talking anytime soon. I’ve got to go offsite to settle some supply issues.”

“Outside the hotel?” the spirit asks, as they head out of the room. “Do you have something to see ghosts with, too?”

Chan looks confused for a moment, then it dawns on him. “Oh, like Seungmin’s camera?” When Hyunjin nods, he laughs. “No, no. I can see ghosts just fine. Thank Minho for that,” he shudders, as if it’s a bad memory.

“Wait. You mean Minho can just _make_ you see ghosts? Then why doesn’t he do it for Seungmin?” Hyunjin frowns, as they stop at the lift lobby. _You know the number of accidents we could’ve avoided_? “Seungmin brings ghosts back here all the time, doesn’t he? He’s practically an employee. For _free_.”

The manager shakes his head. “Oh, Minho doesn’t want Seungmin around here.”

“Why not?” Hyunjin asks indignantly.

“This is a place for the dead,” Chan smiles wearily, as the lift door opens, and he steps in. “Our staff and customers are made of people we’ll send over to the other side and never see again. Minho believes that Seungmin doesn’t belong here.”

Hyunjin holds the door, remaining outside. “Then why is he still here?”

Chan’s gaze darts towards the room they’d just left, and a portrait fills Hyunjin’s mind, branding itself there like fire.

“You’ll have to ask him that yourself,” the manager says, before the lift doors close.

*

Hyunjin wanders around the hotel over the next hour or so, finally finding Seungmin in the reading room, at the same cat paw table, doing the same work, except this time he’s writing English sentences instead of Math.

“So what’d he ask you about?” Hyunjin slides into the chair beside him. Seungmin blinks, looking up. The pages are full of neatest penmanship Hyunjin has ever seen from a high school student, for _practice_.

“What?”

“Minho. What was that conversation about?” the spirit crosses his arms, pouting. “And why didn’t you tell me when you got let out?”

“I thought you said you weren’t overly attached,” Seungmin raises a brow, smiling as Hyunjin makes a face. “Sorry, had a lot on my mind.”

“Was it…” Hyunjin glances at the camera, half-hidden in Seungmin’s bag. “About what happened this morning?”

“A little,” Seungmin concedes. “He thought it was…strange. That the force preventing you from going to the afterlife is the same one that protects me,” it takes a while, before he mumbles out a quiet: “sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” the spirit is mystified for a second.

“That you can’t…go to the afterlife?”

Hyunjin lets out a short laugh. “Ah, like I said, it’s fine, it’s not anyone’s fault. In the meantime…” he shrugs, leaning onto Seungmin’s shoulder. “We’ll just see how it goes.”

“You’re not…mad?” the other boy asks carefully. “Don’t you want to move on?”

“Well, yeah, but,” Hyunjin gestures vaguely. “Felix has been around for like, forty years, and he’s still doing okay. Maybe I just need more time.”

“I guess,” the other boy pauses. “As long as you can go over eventually.”

Hyunjin blinks up at Seungmin. “Do you want me to leave?”

Seungmin sighs. “I want you to be happy, Hyunjin.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” Hyunjin smiles to himself, and hops up to sit onto the table, sliding Seungmin’s notes out from under him. “Let’s go do something.”

“W-what?” the other boy stutters. “Where?”

“It’s a _Saturday_. Don’t tell me you hole up here to do English practice on a _Saturday_ ,” Hyunjin scoffs.

“What’s wrong with revision on Saturdays?”

“Mm, nothing,” Hyunjin says, shrugging, legs swinging. “Oh, I have an idea! You like manhwa, right?”

*

Throughout the short few days he’s spent with Seungmin, there have been multiple character defining moments, Hyunjin thinks – the time the boy tried to save a raging spirit from a murderous deity, when he held Hyunjin’s hands for half an hour through his emotional breakthrough, and how his concept of fantastical escapism equates to Math problems and English practice.

One would think Seungmin were some sort of saint. And yet, Hyunjin’s the one standing worriedly at the cashier’s counter at the comic book café, brow furrowed.

“Hyunjin,” Seungmin says patiently as they try to find a capsule later, the boy precariously balancing his strawberry latte. “I’m not going to pay for you.”

It’s an old-school comic book café, nothing like the new-fangled ones these days with the iPads for webcomics. The shelves of books are tall and made of old, old wood, so it feels like you’re in a forest. Like any other comic book café, there are desks for studying (sleeping), couches for reading (sleeping), and the capsules – tiny cushioned stacked rooms you can line with fluffy blankets, are great for (you guessed it) sleeping. These ones even have a useless but cute little lace privacy curtain. The whole place smells slightly of paper and medicated oil.

“That’s so unromantic,” Hyunjin snipes, before remembering himself. Fortunately or otherwise, Seungmin can’t see him, so the other boy brushes it off as a joke.

“As in, I’m not going to pay for a _ghost_. The cashier’s going to think I’m crazy,” Seungmin scoffs. They manage to find a capsule in the middle, under one occupied by a giggly couple in semi-darkness behind the curtain.

The padded floor is still warm from the previous occupants (ew) but Seungmin seems pretty comfortable, turning on the light, before setting his drink down on the low table and grabbing a fluffy blanket from the shelf outside. “If you feel guilty, I can take the books, then you read them.”

Hyunjin is confused for a moment there, before he realises that Seungmin is just the type of person who comes to comic book cafes to actually _read_. His friends used to just hide in the back capsules and cuddle all the time, much like the couple’s probably doing above this capsule. Except the ones that weren’t dating, he supposes. He doesn’t really know what _they_ did. (Probably read.)

“What comics do you like?” Seungmin asks, neatly setting up his blanket. Hyunjin wonders who he used to come to comic book cafes with, in defence of his position as current potential cuddler #1. “I’ll get them for you.”

“I’ll…just read whatever you’re reading,” Hyunjin waves, making himself comfortable as Seungmin leaves.

 _Minnie probably reads those books with big words about social commentary and stuff,_ Hyunjin thinks, inspecting the strawberry latte while he waits. _Or science fiction about robots._

It’s getting crowded outside the safety of the capsule, and Hyunjin’s relieved they have this privacy curtain. A couple of people crouch to peer in as they pass, books in their hands, and Hyunjin has to remind himself that they’re seeing an empty capsule, save a strawberry latte.

There’s a feminine shriek and more giggles from the couple in the capsule above, and Hyunjin sighs. For a moment, he considers knocking loudly against the ceiling. _Was I this annoying back then?_

“Hyunjin?”

The ghost beams, all grievances forgotten, when he sees a familiar pair of legs under the curtain, and Seungmin slips back through.

“I’m here. Don’t trip,” Hyunjin scooches further in, leaving enough room for the other boy to sit. “What’d you get?”

Seungmin sets down a bunch of well-read manhwa, and divides them neatly into two stacks. Hyunjin sees what’s on the cover of his stack, and eyeballs the other boy, unimpressed.

“You got me _shoujo manhwa_?”

“Yeah,” Again, Seungmin seems to miss some context without the visual cues. He drapes the blanket over the two of them. “I thought you’d like it.”

“Why? Do I look like a sappy romantic who likes to read manhwa about _love_?” Hyunjin _hmphs_.

Seungmin frowns at the opposite wall for a moment. It takes Hyunjin a while to realise that he’s trying to visualise what Hyunjin looks like. “No,” he replies honestly, after another pause. “And what’s wrong with liking love stories?”

“Nothing!”

“Yeah…so…?”

“Tch,” Hyunjin says when he can’t think of anything else to say, picking up the first book. “What’d you get for yourself?”

“Oh, I’m halfway through this series. It’s a crime thriller,” there’s a girl and a boy of indeterminate _manhwa_ age in high school uniforms ( _and also a samoyed!!_ ) on the cover. Seungmin smiles at it. “The plot’s pretty interesting – when she was young, the protagonist got struck by lightning, and since then, she’s always been able to tell when someone is lying to her.”

“Cool,” Hyunjin says. _Sounds exhausting. Imagine the trust issues._ “What can the boy do?”

“He can’t do anything special, much,” Seungmin smooths down the cover, peeling and foxed. “He just never lies. That’s how they met.”

“You said this was a crime thriller,” Hyunjin leans over, peeking at the blurb. “Not a romance.”

“It is a crime thriller, they’re not together or anything,” Seungmin says. “Most of it is about their lives fighting crime. And playing with her dog.”

“Will they get together?”

Seungmin shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not there yet,” he shuffles through Hyunjin’s stack of books, before passing him one. “Want to try? Here’s the first book.”

Hyunjin takes it, making himself comfortable against Seungmin’s shoulder before opening to the first page. He tries to tune out the indistinct noise from outside. _Darn kids. Some of us are actually trying to read here!!_

“So…do you come here with people often?”

“I used to, with Jeongin,” Seungmin says absently. _Hm, again with this Jeongin person_. “We went to the one near school with the student package, we’d do homework for an hour and then read for the rest of the time. What about you?”

The party opposite them is leaving, clattering out of the aisle. A lot of people seem to be leaving, actually, probably going for a late lunch. _We could’ve come like 30 minutes later and gotten a capsule that isn’t under this inconsiderately noisy couple._

“I came with my friends after school, before senior year. We didn’t really do homework. Or read.”

“What else is there to do in a comic book café?” Seungmin raises a brow, not looking up from his book.

Hyunjin shrugs, making a noncommittal sound. He’s all but draped over Seungmin at this point, so the movement accidentally jabs the other boy’s ribcage, making him gasp and squirm.

The ghost sits up then, eyes darting up and down, before gleeful realisation dawns upon him. “Are you…ticklish?”

“No,” Seungmin says quickly, the first lie he’s probably ever told in his _life_. He’s _terrible_ at it. His entire face goes red, and his eyes are fixed on the floor. Hyunjin grins, then, snaking an arm around the other boy’s waist, and Seungmin jerks away instantly, pushing his arm.

“Not fair, I can’t even see you!” The other boy complains, yelping again as Hyunjin pokes his side. “ _Stop_ it.”

“Okay, okay,” Hyunjin says, trying not to laugh as he opens his arms. “Come back, I promise I won’t do it anymore.”

Just then, there’s an audible murmur from the capsule above. “…go see what they’re doing. I dare you.”

Seungmin flushes from embarrassment, then, inching back into position just as Hyunjin sees a face, barely visible through the sheer privacy curtain, peeking down from the capsule above. Then it goes back up just as fast, and there’s an explosion of giggles.

He glares, returning to his comfortable spot beside Seungmin, not without feeling a little guilty. To anyone else, it probably looks like Seungmin’s just making noise by himself.

“Maybe we should move somewhere else now that it’s emptier. Then we won’t be disturbing _some people_ ,” Hyunjin says aloud pointedly, knowing he can’t be heard, and Seungmin smiles.

“I’m too lazy,” the senior murmurs, but Hyunjin’s distracted by the sudden silence coming from above, as if the couple has suddenly stopped talking. Or moving. “I want to read this book, anyway.”

There’s a rustle, and a pair of legs appear from above after a moment, hanging over their capsule. A figure slides off, landing on the floor silently outside the privacy curtain. Seungmin hasn’t seemed to notice anything. “You should really try that book, anyway, if you want. It’s my favourite series.”

Hyunjin sits up, leaning forward, frowning as the person, the boy, turns to face their capsule, upper body still obscured. They aren’t moving or anything, just listening. _What…?_

“…Hyunjin,” Seungmin winces, then, touching Hyunjin’s arm, and the ghost realises he’s leaning halfway across the other boy, arm over Seungmin’s chest. “Is everything okay?”

Fingers curl around the edge of the curtain, and Hyunjin, against all reason, lets out his coldest: “What are you doing?”

The curtain is pulled aside just enough for a face to appear. And the boy, probably a high school freshman, bends slightly, staring straight at Seungmin.

“Hyunjin,” Seungmin says worriedly, fumbling for his camera. He’s still oblivious as the boy outside reaches in, eyes fixed dead on him. “What are you-…”

Just as the boy’s fingers skim Seungmin’s sweater, making him turn and gasp, Hyunjin grabs the boy’s wrist tight. “Don’t,” he grits out, shoving the other spirit back. “ _Touch him_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise, hyunjin is not going to the afterlife just yet!!!! *eye emoji intensifies*
> 
> this chapter went a little overboard, i didn't think it'd end up at 4.3k but i also didn't want it to end before they went on their second not-a-date, so here we are, successfully getting cockblocked yet again
> 
> also sorry i said i would be using the break to edit/focus on other fics but it turns out that i am a dirty liar, also work kind of exploded so writing anything at all has been a bit Difficult, and this is my comfort fic at the moment :') 
> 
> comments will be very strengthening ;A; please stay home and stay safe <3


	9. 009.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The curtain is pulled aside just enough for a face to appear. And the boy, probably a high school freshman, bends slightly, staring straight at Seungmin.
> 
> “Hyunjin,” Seungmin says worriedly, fumbling for his camera. He’s still oblivious as the boy outside reaches in, eyes fixed dead on him. “What are you-…”
> 
> Just as the boy’s fingers skim Seungmin’s sweater, making him turn and gasp, Hyunjin grabs the boy’s wrist tight. “Don’t,” he grits out, shoving the other spirit back. “ _Touch him_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> double update 1/2!

As if alarmed, the other spirit tugs hard, and Hyunjin tumbles out after him into the aisle.

“Who are you?” Hyunjin demands, pushing him back, scooting back towards the capsule. _Weren’t there two of them?_ “What do you want?”

Just then, it feels like a brick drops from the sky, right on his head. He would put the pieces together in about a second after that, that the girl, who’d been watching all this happen from the capsule above, had taken a flying leap down and slam dunked him with her book binder.

As it is, though, it feels like a brick. “ _Ow?_ ” Hyunjin clutches his head, though this (and past experiences) have enlightened him to the fact that ghosts don’t feel real pain - more of a disorientating shock than anything. He shakes it off, glaring at the couple, backs against the other cubicle, watching him with trepidation.

“Hyunjin!” Seungmin grabs his shoulder. Hyunjin glances back, realising he has his camera out. _Oh no, he saw that_. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine as soon as I know who _they_ are.”

The boy cocks his head, looking confused. “So can he see us or not?”

“Who?”

“The human,” the girl points. “How can he see you? Or hear you?”

“I can hear and feel spirits. I see them through the help of this camera,” Seungmin explains kindly. “Who are the two of you?”

The couple look at each other, blinking, before the boy cautiously takes a seat on the floor, the girl following beside him. Something about Seungmin seems to soften them up, as it does with everyone else. “My name’s Park Jihoon. This is Jinhee. We’re ghosts, just like,” he gestures uncertainly to Hyunjin.

“Hyunjin,” Hyunjin says, still a little cold. “And this is Seungmin.”

“Sorry for the shock. We’ve just never met a human who could hear us before,” Jihoon says, wiggling out of the way as two girls walk past, casting a strange look at Seungmin. “And I’ve been dead for a _long_ time.”

“How long have the two of you been here?” Seungmin asks gently, one hand still on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “Did you know each other when you were alive?”

“Oh, no, we met afterwards,” Jihoon touches Jinhee’s hand, and the girl rolls her eyes, raising her book binder again, making him laugh. It’s actually kind of cute, Hyunjin admits grudgingly. “I’ve been around for about two years.”

“I died a few months ago,” the girl continues. She’s wearing a different high school uniform from him. There’s a moment’s pause, before the couple eyes the both of them.

“What about you?” The boy asks curiously. “What’s the, uh,” he gestures awkwardly between them. “Are you, uh?”

“Oh, I’m just helping Hyunjin cross over to the afterlife,” Seungmin says with a smile, and Hyunjin’s mood dips instantaneously.

It must show, or something, because the couple exchange pointed glances again, before looking back.

“Okay.”

“Sure.”

“Speaking of which, do you want to follow us back?” Seungmin lights up. “There’s a hotel made for ghosts like you, to help you finish up your business here on earth and find your way to the afterlife.”

Jinhee takes Jihoon’s hand, looking uncertain. “Like…reincarnation? Alone?”

“I’m not sure if we’re ready to leave yet,” Jihoon adds reluctantly. “I mean, it feels like we just started living again, you know?”

 _Yeah, I know how you feel_ , Hyunjin thinks heavily. He turns back, catching the look of worry on Seungmin’s face, and sighs.

“Listen, even if you’re not ready to go over yet, the staff there can still help you tie up all your loose ends on earth, and it’s better than staying around here,” the spirit mumbles, gesturing around them. “They have free food. And a beach.”

Jinhee’s eyes light up a little, and she shrugs at the boy. “I like beaches.”

“And they won’t…force you to stay there, or anything?”

Seungmin shakes his head immediately. “No, of course not. We just want to help you move on.”

The couple look at each other again. Hyunjin sees the same wildly conflicted looks on both their faces that he’d felt this morning at the tunnel.

Then the girl turns back to them, nodding. “Okay. I’ll follow you.”

*

“Thank you for that.”

“What?” Hyunjin turns around, shaking the thoughts out of his head.

They’re standing at the gold and wood balustrade in the main lobby, after Chan had graciously welcomed the high school couple and sent them to their rooms with a staff member.

“For getting them to come back here,” the other boy smiles. “I guess they really just needed to hear it from another ghost,” he laughs. “What do I have to do so that you’ll come with me wherever I go from now on?”

“Hah. Yeah,” Hyunjin mumbles. It’s simultaneously better and more difficult within these walls, when Seungmin can see every emotion flitting through his face together with his voice.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin reaches over, brushing hair out of his face. It sends Hyunjin into a spiral of emotions, a mess of _you’re not supposed to be feeling this way_ and _I could do this forever_. “That girl hit you pretty hard.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin shrugs. “Ghosts don’t feel pain, I guess.”

“Oh, they do,” the other boy says absently, still running his fingers through Hyunjin’s hair. “Just maybe not from things like book binders. You’re still human, after all.”

“I am?”

“You feel happy, and scared, and love, right?” Seungmin taps his chest, right over where his heart should be. “You’re human. Don’t forget it.”

The word _love_ reminds Hyunjin of the portrait high up in the hotel, outside Minho’s office, and he takes a deep breath. “Do you do this all the time?”

Seungmin blinks. “What?”

“Like, bump into ghosts randomly and stay with them until you can bring them back here,” Hyunjin glances down the corridor where the couple had disappeared. “What about time for _you_? Or your friends and family?”

The boy is silent for a moment. His honest, open face is unreadable. “Why do you ask?”

Hyunjin doesn’t know how to say it without it coming off the wrong way. “You’re giving up all this time you could be spending with them. And they don’t even know what you’re doing, or why.”

_Even I don’t know why._

“They’re not missing out on much,” Seungmin shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You keep saying things like that,” Hyunjin frowns, voice rising. “Like you don’t think they don’t care about you. What about Lia, or Jeongin – you think they’re lying when they say they want to spend time with you in school, or go to comic book cafés with you?”

That comes out a little harsh, and Hyunjin looks away so he doesn’t have to see the hurt flashing through Seungmin’s eyes. Conflicted, he fumbles for a compromise, and eventually settles on something he knows he’s going to both desire and regret. “Can I meet them?”

 _This_ surprises Seungmin, and he raises a brow. “My friends?”

“Yeah. They won’t know I’m there, right? It’ll just be like - like that morning I followed you to class,” Hyunjin shrugs. “I won’t make trouble, I promise. I’ll just be there with you.”

Seungmin searches him for a while, both hands perched on the balustrade. “Why are you doing this?” He asks, after a moment. _You’re supposed to be moving on, not finding reasons to stay_ , is what he doesn’t say.

Hyunjin’s wordless for a second. He’s not even sure where to _start_. All he knows is that every moment he’s spent with Seungmin so far has been the most _right_ he’s felt in a long, long time. And whatever’s keeping him here…isn’t doing it without a reason.

“I want you to be happy,” he musters up eventually. To defuse the tension in the air, he cracks a faint smile. “Don’t sound so stiff. It’s not like we’re going on a _date_ or anything.”

Seungmin laughs absently, but it’s different from the first time. For one, he’s staring into Hyunjin’s eyes the whole time. His emotions are clear as day, like they always are, but for once, Hyunjin can’t tell what he’s feeling.

Then he smiles and nods a little. “I’m going to meet Jeongin for a movie this Wednesday night. Do you like action?”

 _Depends on who I’m watching it with_ , is what Hyunjin wants to say, but he thinks he’s pushed it enough for one day.

“Yeah,” he says instead, relieved. “I can do action.”

*

The next few days at the hotel pass a lot faster than Hyunjin expects.

“Might as well make myself useful,” he reasons, when he shows up during Felix’s shift at the bar.

“You’re just bored because Seungmin’s at school,” Felix giggles. There’s a knowing hint in his tone, but Hyunjin ignores it. “Sure! I can show you how to make coffee and stuff.”

Hyunjin gets to wear a velvety jacket over his t-shirt and serve coffees, and spends the rest of his time tapping into Felix’s wealth of gossip.

“…Some of the guests have been here for a while, but they usually don’t stay longer than a few years, according to Minho,” Felix shrugs. “Everyone wants to hurry onto the afterlife, you know?”

“Have there been other cases like mine?” Hyunjin asks, shaking a bottle of caramel sauce. He’d tried (and failed) to draw a heart on his first caramel latte, and is in the slow, agonising process of trying to get it right on a teacup of foamed milk.

Felix starts cleaning a glass busily. “Word got around to the staff about what happened,” he whispers conspiratorially. “Rumour has it that Minho’s stuck here for the same thing, and his time is running out. So you’re here to take over him as manager of the hotel.”

Hyunjin makes a face. “ _No._ ”

“Yep! But like I said, he’s like a billion years old so none of us really know for sure, and while we’re all already dead, we’re pretty sure he’ll find a way to kill us again if we ask. Oh well!” Felix cheerfully sets down his glass.

Hyunjin broods over this possibility for a while, staring at his wonky caramel heart. Sure, it’d mean he’d get to stay with Seungmin a while longer…a _lot_ longer. Longer than Seungmin would be around, probably. He doesn’t think he could live with that idea, physically or metaphorically.

_Shut up, Hwang Hyunjin! You’re supposed to be figuring out a way to get to the afterlife like Seungmin wants you to, not how to stay here!_

“Other than that, I think most of them are waiting for one of the deities to show up with answers,” Felix shrugs.

“The deities?”

“You know, Mago! I heard you met the Goddess of Death last week?”

Hyunjin does a full-body shudder. “The killer lady in all black?”

“Yeah, Changbin-hyung works together with Jihyo all the time, he says she’s a cool boss,” Felix glances over. “Hey, that one doesn’t look half bad – you can try it on a real latte now,” he nods, pulling another shot of espresso. “Plus you’ve met the Goddess of Life too, right? She gave you the flower. That’s two of them already.”

“There’s _more_?” Hyunjin asks incredulously, charging up his caramel bottle.

“Yep, two more!” Felix chirps, pouring frothed milk into a cappuccino cup. “I’ve only ever met one of them, and she’s the absolute _nicest_.”

Hyunjin’s only slightly comforted by this – everyone seems to be the _absolute nicest_ to Felix, because he’s Felix. To normies like Hyunjin, on the other hand…

“Anyway, they’re probably the only ones who’ll be able to tell you what’s going on,” Felix snorts lightly. “ _If_ they want to tell you what’s going on.”

“Felix! Oppa!” Someone yells from across the lobby, then, attracting the attention of half the guests. Hyunjin stares as Yuna whirlwinds over to the bar, sprawling over the marble top and somehow managing to be out of breath despite not technically requiring oxygen.

“One of the deities is here!”

Hyunjin almost drops his caramel bottle. _Now?_

“She’s gone up to see Minho! He’s requested a bottle of champagne and three glasses!”

“Okay, okay Yuna,” Felix chuckles. “I’ll send it right up. Which one is it?”

“Uhh, the sparkly drink with the bubbles?” the girl shrugs, panicking. “I don’t know, I died before I was legal.”

“No, the _deity_ , Yuna.”

“ _Oh_. It’s Sana!” the younger girl laughs. “So it’s not the end of the world! But let’s not keep her waiting either way,” she points towards the stairs. “Off to the kitchens for the hors d'oeuvres!”

The spirit speeds away.

Felix hums to himself as he reaches into the chiller to get out a classy-looking bottle, and some of the champagne glasses he’d been polishing just now. Feeling antsy, Hyunjin tries to focus on his caramel heart.

“So…one of the deities is here? Now?”

“Yep, seems like!”

 _This is probably the only opportunity you’ll get to ask. You have to at least try_.

“Felix…” Hyunjin turns around slowly. “Could I bring the champagne up to Minho’s office?”

Felix’s eyes widen. “You want to talk to Sana?”

Hyunjin bites his lip. “I mean, it’s worth a shot? If it gets me one step closer to knowing how to cross over to the afterlife…”

The other ghost seems to mull this over, before beaming. “Well, Sana _is_ probably the best one to ask if you want an answer…”

“Really?” Hyunjin brightens, carefully picking up the champagne bottle and glasses.

“No guarantee that the answer is going to make sense,” Felix laughs. _Well, better than nothing._

“Alright, I’ll be back soon,” Hyunjin steps out, trying to wave with the hand holding the glasses. “Oh, oh, and um,” he blushes slightly, glancing at the cup of coffee on the counter. “Could you help me, um, give that to Seungminnie when he’s here? He should be back from school anytime now.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Sure, Jinnie.”

“Which Goddess did you say Sana was again?” Hyunjin calls, as he’s further away.

Felix looks up from the wobbly caramel heart on the foamed milk, along with the small golden puppy, and there’s a knowing smile on his face. “You know, I get the feeling she’s just the one you want to meet.”


	10. 010.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> double update 2/2!

Hyunjin takes a few deep breaths out of habit as he stands outside the double doors to Minho’s office, listening to the muffled voices within.

Plastering on his best customer service smile, he pushes the door open and steps in timidly, bowing and looking for the coffee table.

“Eh? Why are you here?” He sees Minho first, scowling slightly, once again dressed to the nines this afternoon in a forest green shirt with gold detailing. His scowl lessens slightly when he sees the champagne. “Is this an appeal for employment?”

Despite the lingering intimidation Hyunjin still feels around Minho, he feels a stab of indignance too. _I’d make a great waiter, thank you very much_.

Whatever response he wants to make is stolen from his lips, however, by the pop of something pink in the corner of his eye. “Yah, Lee Minho~! That’s no way to treat your servers!”

In a second, Hyunjin’s entranced by the woman standing by the portraits on the wall.

Something about her takes his breath away the same way Jihyo and Nayeon did, but differently. He can’t quite put his finger on it.

She’s wearing a blouse and pencil skirt suit that, upon closer inspection, both have little geometric strawberries printed on it. Pinned atop her golden caramel hair is one of those gauzy little hats, with even tinier matching strawberries. A white leather tote bag with a tiny alien plushie keychain hangs on one arm.

But what makes him stare is the way she _moves_ – he remembers Jihyo moving like a swan on the top of a lake, but she moves like a hummingbird, flitting between flowers. Hyunjin tries to figure out why he’s surprised, before realising that he’d expected someone in that suit to be wearing high heels, like his teachers in high school.

“I see you like my limited-edition noir rose Adidas trainers,” Sana says brightly, and Hyunjin snaps back to attention, trying not to look like he’d been staring. “They’re vintage! Minho bought them for me, because I need to walk _everywhere_ for my job, and I’m really clumsy,” she flutters over to the hotel owner, who looks like he really just wants to go back to bed. “He’s a real mean boss, isn’t he? But _such_ a softie.”

“Did you just come here to disrespect me in front of my guests?” Minho grumbles. “And Hyunjin here isn’t even an employee. Felix probably made him bring that up.”

“Felix? But he’s the absolute _nicest!_ ”

“I volunteered to bring it up,” Hyunjin sets down the champagne and glasses. “Sorry for the intrusion,” he mumbles.

“No, no, not at all!” Sana’s fixing him with a curious look, now – as if she can see something he can’t. “Hm.”

For a moment, Hyunjin just stands there like a deer in the headlights, trying to remember the question he’d rehearsed in his head on the way up here.

“You know what?” Sana finally smiles. Her teeth are a perfect, blinding white. “You should have some snacks.”

“W-what?” Hyunjin stammers. “I really couldn’t-…”

“Have some snacks,” the deity says cheerily, guiding Hyunjin with a grip of steel towards the couch and putting her bag down, where trays of incredible looking finger food sit untouched on the coffee table. A look from Minho tells Hyunjin that he should _shut up and have some snacks_ , so he takes a salmon canape and tries not to look terrified. “You’re Hwang Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin gawks over his canape. “How did you…?”

“She’s a celestial being,” Minho reminds him drily, now back in his office chair. “She knows everything.”

“Not just _any_ celestial being!” Sana twinkles, striking a pose. “The Goddess of _Love!_ ”

_Oh._

_Wait, so what did Felix mean when he said she was the deity I wanted to meet…?_

Minho scoffs lightly, then, twisting the cork of the champagne bottle with a sigh. “Love. Sure.”

The deity, drawn up to her full height in her matching strawberry bodycon suit and pink trainers, pushes out her lower lip as she looks over. Then she reaches up, and tugs on thin air.

Immediately, Minho’s whole hand lurches forward, and he sighs in exasperation. “Can you let me enable myself in peace?”

Hyunjin watches, bug-eyed, as a red thread materialises, flecked with gold and a barely noticeable glow, where it’s held lax in Sana’s hand, to where it’s tied in a neat ribbon knot on Minho’s fourth finger.

The deity leans over to Hyunjin, whispering knowingly. “He has a soulmate.”

“Who?” Hyunjin blurts out. _No offence, but my condolences, damn._

“Does it matter?” Minho snaps, trying to open his champagne bottle again. “It’s been a _thousand_ years!”

“Just because I haven’t found them yet, doesn’t mean you have to be all grumpy about it!” Sana says brightly. It’s then Hyunjin sees the other end of the thread, still empty and loose in her hand. “See Hyunjin?” she waves the end of the thread. “The fun part of my job lets me tie love lines between people. These people are destined to meet, and have feelings for each other~” She clasps her hands together dreamily, once again disrupting Minho’s attempt to open the bottle. “And if they choose to, they fall in love!”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen. “Wait, there’s a chance they won’t fall in love with each other? But, what happens after that?”

Sana blinks back at him, tossing Minho’s line over her shoulder, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Then they’ll just have to wait till their next life, of course!”

 _Oh._ Secretly, the thought of waiting for your soulmate through lifetimes sounds like the most romantic thing Hyunjin has ever heard, and this must show on his face, because Sana beams, voice mellowing. “Do you know what love feels like, Hyunjin-ah?”

Hyunjin tries his best. He really does. But all he can think of is Seungmin, the way Seungmin makes him feel, the way he wants to do everything in his power to make Seungmin smile, _always_.

_I don’t know if this is what love feels like. But it feels like the closest I’ve ever come to it. And now, I have to walk away from it._

“No,” he shakes his head quietly. “But I’d want to.”

“Well, at least you know what you want. Many people can’t say the same, even after a thousand years,” the deity pats his shoulder, ignoring the thundercloud coming from the office desk behind her, before turning away flippantly. “Well, there’s always your next life, isn’t there?”

And Hyunjin realises… _she’s right._

_There’s always my next life. Once all this is figured out and over, I can just cross over, start anew, and I won’t remember any of this._

_I can move on, just like that._

_But he can’t._

“Sana-ssi,” Hyunjin blurts out, watching in trepidation as the Goddess glances back at him knowingly. “I’m sorry if this is overstepping any boundaries, but…something’s stopping me from going to the afterlife, even after Jihyo spared me and Nayeon gave me her flower. And I just – I don’t understand. Why am I still here?”

Sana sort of _shifts_ then. It’s strange, because all it means is that her expression doesn’t change for a full second. It’s decidedly terrifying, because even Minho doesn’t move right then, one hand still on the champagne cork.

Her eyes are like spotlights, making Hyunjin feel like she’s seeing right through him, illuminating everything inside him, all the dusty corners and long-forgotten secrets.

“Because,” she says steadily after a moment, voice reverberating through the silence. “Nothing is more powerful than love.”

Hyunjin’s mind stops working, what she’d said echoing through his head.

“Sajangnim, Sana-ssi, sorry I’m la-…” With terrific timing, the door opens, and Chan walks through breathlessly, freezing when he sees Hyunjin. “Oh. Sorry, is something-…”

“No, it’s fine, come in,” Minho says flatly, and the door swings open on its own as he makes another attempt on the champagne bottle. “It’s just Sana.”

“Channie~!” Sana straightens, cheering and flitting over to the door. “Oh!”

She seemingly trips on thin air then, hopping indignantly and wiggling her right foot, and Minho’s hand is forced forwards again, red and gold thread appearing and vanishing again in a flash. “Sorry, I always forget where those are. Clumsy me!”

“I was stuck settling a supply issue, we didn’t know you were visiting,” Chan says gently, offering his arm as a support while Sana disentangles her foot, Minho’s hand flapping miserably in midair. “Or that, uh, you wanted to speak to Hyunjin.”

“Oh, things happened as they happened,” Sana says brightly, finally freeing her foot. “How are you? How are things with you and Dahyun?”

“We’re fine, thank you,” Chan says, a little quieter. “The second honeymoon was a nice idea.”

Sana fixes him with the same look she’d given to Hyunjin just now, that same floodlight stare, and pats his hand, right over the silvery wedding band on his ring finger. “The child will come soon. Give them time.”

Chan looks surprised, and a little embarrassed. “Of course.”

“Well!” Sana whirls around, clasping her hands together. “It was nice speaking to everyone again, and now I must really go back to work! Lots of running about to do.”

“Oh no, so soon?” Chan says empathetically, reaching over to deftly pluck the champagne bottle away from Minho’s hands, ignoring the death glare from his boss.

“I have to tell my sisters _all_ about today,” Sana beams. “Now, where’d I put my bag…”

“Oh, it’s here, Sana-ssi,” Hyunjin stands, mouth a little dry, picking up the white leather tote from the couch, while Minho and Chan start a hushed argument about the former’s concerning alcohol dependency in the background.

“Ah, thank you!” Sana takes it, starting to fuss about with its contents. Hyunjin vaguely hears the echo of mountains being moved inside the little bag. “Just give me a moment…”

“Sana-ssi…” the boy mumbles, mouth moving ahead of his brain. “Do I have a love line too? Like Minho?”

The deity lets out a tinkling little laugh, still shoulder-deep in her handbag. “You’re so bold, Hyunjin-ah. But I don’t think I can tell you that, because I’d have to cut the line if I did.”

“O-oh? But, Minho-…?”

“Minho’s a special case,” Sana stage whispers, before glancing over to where the hotel owner is throwing a mini tantrum at his desk, Chan staunchly refusing to give the champagne bottle back. “Anyway, he figured it out when he was still alive, so it doesn’t really matter. Unless, you want me to cut your line…?”

“No!” Hyunjin shakes his head profusely, holding his hand to his chest. Sana laughs again.

“I was pulling your leg, I can’t actually tell you about your line regardless,” she beams, still rooting around in her bag. “You really like that boy, don’t you?”

Hyunjin flushes. _So she knows._ “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The deity _ahahs_ , before finally extricating something from her bag that looks like a worn receipt book, a square of cardboard in the middle and all, the kind you’d find at traditional medicine shops. She flips through it, peeling out a sheet from the middle, and handing it to Hyunjin. “Anyway, this is for you!”

Hyunjin blinks at it. There’s a scribble in black on the thin white paper, and an impressive-looking red stamp over the line on the bottom right, with some numbers.

“When you’re about to leave, one of my sisters will have something for you. Find her and give this to her, and she’ll give it to you if you choose to accept it,” Sana looks at Hyunjin, fingers forming an OK sign. “Got it?”

The boy just nods numbly, head spinning with too many questions to even ask. _What does she mean, when I’m about to leave…?_

“Time to go~” Sana picks up her bag jauntily, turning to head off. Hyunjin thinks he hears a knock on the door, but he can’t be sure. “Minho-ah, could you get the-…oh!”

In a split second, Hyunjin hears a crash, and for the second time in several days, finds himself flat on the floor, arm with the receipt outstretched in front of him.

Looking up in a daze, he sees Minho and Chan, paused in their tussle to stare owlishly down, and Sana, sitting on the carpet and rubbing her palm with a wince.

Then he looks to the door, eyes widening when he sees Seungmin, getting up from the floor in the doorway, looking stunned and rubbing the bump on his forehead. “I’m sorry?”

“ _Ahh_! I’m so clumsy, I’m sorry,” Sana complains, giving her right foot an insistent shake, before getting up. Hyunjin wobbles up, only to plop back on the couch. “I really do have to go now, but I’ll be back soon!” She pats Minho's head, Chan’s hand, and Seungmin’s shoulder, before she’s bustling out into the waiting area before Hyunjin can even make sense of what just happened.

The ensuing silence makes Hyunjin quite sure that if he were to look out now, she’d be long gone.

“Wait,” Minho’s eyes narrow, before he slams the table. “She _took the champagne!”_

This sparks another argument between him and the manager, and Seungmin’s forced to inch by to sink on the couch beside Hyunjin, still rubbing his head.

“What was that all about?” he asks quietly.

“Beats me,” Hyunjin groans, stretching his back. “How come you’re here, Minnie?”

_And why’d all three of us fall down together like that just now?_

“Felix told me you went to speak to Sana,” Seungmin says in a low voice, raising a brow. “I ran up here right after that. Did you really just _ask_ the Goddess of Love why you can’t go to the afterlife? Just like that?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin blinks. “Why?”

“Wow,” Seungmin looks impressed. “Well, what’d she say?”

The receipt in Hyunjin’s hand suddenly weighs a ton, and he stuffs it into his jacket pocket, feeling queasy. “Nothing much, she just told me that…. _nothing is more powerful than love_ , or something. Don’t ask me what that means, because I’ve no…” he chuckles, trailing off, caught on the misty-eyed look on Seungmin’s face. “Idea.”

Even from the outside, Hyunjin can see the words sticking like lovegrass on the hem of Seungmin’s lovely, cloudy mind. And he realises that even if these words don’t mean anything to him, Hyunjin, they’ve clearly reached in and struck a chord in the other boy.

 _Just let me in_ , he finds himself begging silently, looking into his eyes. _Let me take some of whatever’s weighing your heart down like that._

“Well, we’ll figure it out,” Seungmin stands with a bracing smile, and the moment’s over, gone like a summer breeze through Hyunjin’s fingers. “Are you going to finish up your shift with Felix? I just wanted to drop by, I’ll head home later to get ready for tonight.”

“Tonight?” Hyunjin asks blankly, mind still occupied by the look in Seungmin’s eyes just seconds ago.

The other boy’s head tilts, like an adorably confused puppy. “Did you forget?”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen. _Wednesday…_

"The movie I'm watching with Jeonginnie,” Seungmin laughs. "It's tonight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i solemnly swear that disappearing for a month and reappearing with a double update is not going to become a habit
> 
> happy new year everyone!! hope that you guys have had a great start to the year ;u; writing was a struggle these two months but finishing these two chapters was fun (esp hyunjin simping for seungmin every waking moment). comments and kudos will be much appreciated, esp wanna hear your theories now that sana has appeared!! :>
> 
> also in the case that anyone's expertly procrastinating work/homework and would like a quick light read, i accidentally wrote a [chanlix ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28386180) and [changin ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28241649) to clear my head this month! feel free to peruse 
> 
> p.s. i've been deployed to covid vac operations for a week starting tmr so posting this in a rush, will be replying all your comments on the previous chapter soon! thank you for sharing your thoughts with me, they really give me strength T_T


	11. 011.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonight?” Hyunjin asks blankly, mind still occupied by the look in Seungmin’s eyes just seconds ago.
> 
> The other boy’s head tilts, like an adorably confused puppy. “Did you forget?”
> 
> Hyunjin’s eyes widen. Wednesday…
> 
> "The movie I'm watching with Jeonginnie,” Seungmin laughs. "It's tonight."

Hyunjin spends the whole subway ride jittering.

 _AAAAH, I’m meeting Seungmin’s friend!!_ says Inner Hyunjin.

“…so the Wednesday night movies with him pretty much became a thing after that,” Seungmin beams at the fond memory. He’s wearing a Bluetooth earpiece tonight, a clunky black thing that doesn’t actually work anymore, so it doesn’t look like he’s talking to thin air. “That, and watching League of Legends matches at the old Nexus Arena, when it was still around. I think we saw each other every day, every summer in middle school. I’m surprised we never got tired of each other.”

 _Ah…I’m meeting Seungmin’s friend_.

Don’t get him wrong, Hyunjin is happy that Seungmin has such close friends and a whole wedding album’s worth of childhood memories to share with them. He is the #1 fan of Seungmin’s personal development and emotional security.

_But that should be me!!!!!!_

Hyunjin _hmfs_ silently, pouting as they head up the escalator. _If Minnie and I were childhood friends_ , he thinks stubbornly. _We’d be the best childhood friends to lovers story in existence!!_

“He should be here soon, then we can get tickets,” Seungmin checks his phone. “Could you help me look out for him? I’m not wearing my glasses.”

“How are you going to see the movie without your glasses?” Hyunjin grumbles. “And how am I supposed to know what he looks like?”

“I look like a loser in them. You said it yourself,” Seungmin scoffs, squinting at an LED screen of movie timings. Hyunjin’d noticed, on the way, that Seungmin seemed to dress up a little more than usual tonight – he was still wearing a hoodie, of course, but it was a _branded_ one, and his jeans actually fit, not hanging three inches above his ankles like they usually do. And did he do something with his hair? It was subtle, but Hyunjin was finding it hard not to notice everything about Seungmin. “Anyway, Jeongin’s easy to spot, he’s got fox eyes.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You’ll notice it when you see it.”

And Hyunjin does. He notices so hard that he stops, right in the middle of the movie concierge entrance.

He’d had visions in his mind of what this Jeongin person would look like – maybe a little like Seungmin, lanky but soft angles, bespectacled and mischievous, and also tiny, going by the other boy’s stories about tackling him all the time during elementary school. He’d envisioned a cute high school junior.

Hyunjin stares, all the way as the approaching, _glittering_ movie star-esque boy in his bomber jacket, classic white shirt and black skinny jeans stops in front of Seungmin and smiles toothily, fox eyes darkening into slits. “Hey hyung.”

“Hi Innie,” It’s like Seungmin becomes a different person, around him. He sounds playful, like a puppy at the park with all its best friends. Hyunjin realises that people are glancing over to where they’re standing, all with the same thoughts – _is he an idol? An actor? Most importantly, is he single?_

As someone who, with much humility, used to bear this title in his youth, Hyunjin uses phrases like _devastatingly attractive_ sparingly. It’s mildly uncomfortable, he realises grudgingly, being in the general proximity of someone more handsome than him. _He’s just a kid!! Why does his jawline look like that!!_

“I see you’re still wearing pajamas,” Jeongin pinches the edge of Seungmin’s hoodie, and the older boy scowls, flicking his hand away.

“I see _you’re_ still trying too hard,” Seungmin says drily, and the other boy adjusts one of his rings sheepishly. It’s got a familiar-looking fox on it. “It’s just the movies, Innie, not Seoul Fashion Week. C’mon, let’s buy the tickets before they sell out.”

Hyunjin’s liked to think he’s relatively recovered from the initial shock, now, and is re-evaluating his standings in the Potential Seungmin Cuddler leaderboards when someone else enters the scene.

He watches, eyes wide, as Movie Actress #2 walks right over like she’s going down a red carpet for an under-the-table daesang at the Golden Disk Awards. The story clicks in his head as she latches onto Jeongin’s arm, managing a look that’s simultaneously haughty and giggly schoolgirl innocent.

“Hyung, how about Wonyoung and I get the tickets, and you get the popcorn?” Jeongin suggests, wrapping an arm around the girl’s waist.

Just as the mood in the general vicinity takes a steep dive at the confirmed relationship status, Hyunjin’s absolutely _soars_. Of course!! This mysterious, handsome actor childhood friend is a _straightie!_ And this is his very pretty, very attached girlfriend!

Then Hyunjin’s thoughts take another cheery turn. Hey, together with Jeongin and his girlfriend, it’s practically a double date! This is great! Much greater than all the 101 ways he’d envisioned this night would go. Isn’t that right, Seungmin?

_…Seungmin?_

The other boy seems frozen, staring at the two of them. He laughs a little, a stuttered noise. “I didn’t – you didn’t tell me Wonyoung was coming.”

Hyunjin looks around. Beside him, a couple of girls are giggling into their jacket sleeves. _That guy with them…poor thing._

_Is he their friend? Why’s he even there?_

_That’s so embarrassing…_

At the risk of sounding stupid, Hyunjin takes a while to realise. That this isn’t a double date. It’s just a boy, in a hand-me-down hoodie and five-year-old Nike trainers, intruding on a very attractive, very compatible couple’s movie date.

Jeongin rubs the back of his neck, managing to look roguishly good even while embarrassed. “Sorry hyung. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

*

“So,” Hyunjin rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet while he and Seungmin wait in line for the popcorn. The other boy hasn’t spoken a word since they parted with the couple. “Does Jeongin always bring his girlfriend on your movie nights, or…?”

Seungmin sighs. “Was it obvious just now? That I got…upset?”

Hyunjin clears his throat. “Well, I mean, if _my_ best friend brought his girlfriend on a bros night out without telling me, I’d think he were a dickwad too.” He says, with the confident air of someone who was usually the dickwad bringing the surprise girlfriend in all his past friendships.

Maybe the other boy can tell, because his expression doesn’t lift. There’s a cloudy, suffocating gloominess hanging over his head. “I shouldn’t have said that just now.”

“Yeah, because you should’ve gone ham on him!” Hyunjin folds his arms across his chest. “Call him out for the total breach of bros over hoes policy!”

Seungmin lets out a tired laugh, rubbing his eyes. “I should get used to it, it’s been like this since he started dating her. That’s…six months ago? Wow.”

 _Six months ago…_ the number sounds familiar, Hyunjin thinks, brow furrowed. “Well, he doesn’t sound like a very great best friend, then, no offence.”

The high school senior keeps fiddling with his wallet. When he speaks again, his voice sounds caged, shoulders hunching in.

“When my brother passed away…I wasn’t really around for him. I couldn’t hang out with him like normal for a few months,” he confesses. “And after that…and he started dating her, I guess we didn’t really have the time to see each other at all. I’ve always wanted to say sorry, it’s just whenever I think of back then…” he trails off, wiping the corners of his eyes quickly. “Ah, this is stupid. Sorry.”

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin says quietly. “It’s not your fault you couldn’t go watch movies with your friends after your brother passed away.”

Seungmin just stands there for a moment. His body is present, but there’s a distant look in his eyes, like his mind is captive somewhere else.

Some _time_ else, maybe.

Hyunjin’s overcome with the deep, surging longing, then, to reach all the way in, grab Seungmin by the hand and pull him out of that terrifying darkness.

Lightly, his fingers twitch. Then, like his body’s moving on its own, purposeful and slow, Hyunjin takes Seungmin’s hand, interlacing their fingers, till their palms are flush against each other, just like that night at the festival.

The other boy inhales, blinking, glancing over momentarily. And for the glorious moment that their eyes meet, though Hyunjin knows at the back of his mind that Seungmin can’t see him, he’s pulled out of the dark, bathed in the golden light from the counter, soft on his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

“Next?” the lady behind the counter barks.

Hyunjin snaps back to attention, as does Seungmin, realising it’s their turn to order.

“A-ah, sorry,” the other boy mumbles, taking out his wallet. He still hasn’t let go of Hyunjin. “One duo set please.”

They step aside to wait for the snacks after Seungmin finishes his order, and neither of them say anything for a moment.

 _Defuse the situation!!_ Hyunjin’s brain orders. _Yessir!_ His mouth agrees happily.

“I could be your date tonight.”

 _You idiot!!_ Hyunjin’s brain screams. _Not like this!!_

Seungmin’s cheeks slowly turn the colour of the cola cups on the counter. He’s not looking at Hyunjin, but the spirit can almost hear the volume of his thoughts, like a warzone within the confines of his head.

“Just for tonight. Just for fun,” Hyunjin lies right through his teeth. It’d actually be believable if not for the yearning embedded deep in his words, like weights tied to each one. “You know, for…” he glances over to the ticket queue. “Symmetry purposes.”

There’s a moment of silence, every passing millisecond making the emptiness in Hyunjin’s chest hurt sharper. Then Seungmin smiles faintly.

When he glances over, unseeing, Hyunjin thinks he sees something crumble in the darkness of his eyes, though his voice is light. “I thought you were the one who said we weren’t going on a date.”

Hyunjin lets out a laugh that’s more of a relieved breath, tightening his hold on Seungmin’s hand. The happiness is as acute as the pain is, spreading up his arm and through the rest of his body.

“Well, we didn’t know you were going to unintentionally third wheel your best friend and his girlfriend,” he swings their hands between them. It shouldn’t feel as natural as it does. “What’s not to like about dating me, anyway?”

Their receipt number flashes on the lightboard, and Seungmin’s hand slips out of his.

“Nothing,” the other boy murmurs, half to himself, as he leaves to get the food.

*

They end up with tickets for two loveseats on the left aisle. Jeongin explains sheepishly, as they walk towards the hall, that there hadn’t been any regular three-seaters left, despite the fact that three quarters of the cinema is still empty when they get there.

Hyunjin doesn’t mind, though. Because this means he gets to lift the arm rest later, curl up at Seungmin’s side, lean on the other boy’s shoulder and whisper snarky commentary about the movie undisturbed. _Y’all can get whatever movie seats you want._

“No cameras allowed.”

The ahjumma stops them flatly at the front of the bag inspection line outside the cinema, and Seungmin peers into his bag, where his brother’s camera is nestled on top of his stuff.

“Oh,” He frowns, probably never having associated this camera with something as lowlife as piracy. He doesn’t take it out as often these days, Hyunjin realises (not like there’s much need for that, when Hyunjin’s like a walking, talking ghostbuster radar). “I won’t take it out during the movie. Is that okay?”

“Sorry,” the woman points towards the box beside the door, a plastic crate-looking thing that looks one bump away from disintegrating. “No cameras allowed. You can take it back after the movie.”

Seungmin hesitates, fiddling with the camera straps, probably acutely aware of the line behind him. _You can give it to her_ , Hyunjin wants to say, already devising plans to use his ghost powers to sneak it back into the cinema.

Then he sees Wonyoung, standing behind Seungmin with Jeongin, very conspicuously turn away to roll her eyes. _Wow_ , Hyunjin frowns. _Okay, bitch._

“Sure. Sorry,” Seungmin hands the camera over. Hyunjin sees his eyes linger on the camera as they head in.

“Don’t worry about it,” the spirits narrows his eyes at the entrance way, once they’re seated. “I’ll get that camera back for you, babe.”

“ _Don’t_ ,” the other boy whispers, grabbing his arm (he gets it on the second try). He’s smiling. “I was just worried ‘cause the box didn’t look very safe. It’s my fault for forgetting they did these inspections, it’s been a while since I came to the movies.”

 _Ah_ , Seungmin, bless his lovely little anti-Karen soul. “Oh. Well, I can go see where they keep that box. Just to make sure it’s safe.”

The senior beams. “Thank you.”

Hyunjin has to try his best not to skip down the steps towards the entrance after that.

They’re early enough that the cinema hall hasn’t started playing advertisements yet, and he spots Wonyoung talking to a friend somewhere near the front of the hall, another girl that’s much too made up to still be in high school.

 _Don’t pour popcorn in her hair. Don’t pour popcorn in her hair._ Hyunjin tells himself patiently, as he walks past. _I am Hyunjin the friendly ghost. Hyunjin the good, angelic-…_

“…on a date?”

“Ugh, no,” Wonyoung makes a face. “For _this_ movie?”

The ghost walks faster, a bad feeling at the bottom of his stomach.

Then the other girl glances up the stairs, and bursts into a giggle, covering her mouth. “I guess this means the creepy guy from 4A is still preying on your boyfriend?”

Hyunjin pauses in mid-stride.

Wonyoung gasps, slapping her friend’s arm, giggling uncontrollably. “Yujin-ah! You're so mean.”

“What? That’s what you call him too,” Yujin drops to a whisper. “Is he really…? You know. Like how Jaemin oppa says.”

Wonyoung looks around furtively, then nods. “I mean, no offence to guys who are…like that.”

“ _He’s_ an offence to guys who are like that.”

They start laughing again.

“Anyway, Jeongin oppa doesn’t even want to hang out with him,” Wonyoung rolls her eyes. “I bet he just pities him because he’s got no one else to hang out with. So I think that guy should just stop _trying_.”

“Trying?”

“Does he think I’m stupid? Of course I know what he’s trying to do,” the long-haired girl scoffs. “Asking Jeongin out for a movie together? Alone?”

“Ah. Especially when he’s _like that_?”

They start laughing again. Then the topic changes to Wonyoung’s new Apgujeong C-curl cold perm.

Hyunjin looks at a random couple’s popcorn, waiting on the handrest of a front seat while they talk to someone else. Then he looks at Wonyoung, and her cold perm.

*

“That took a while. Sorry you had to do that,” Seungmin whispers, when Hyunjin returns to the seat later.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hyunjin wiggles onto the seat beside him. “They put the box behind the counter, tagged the stuff inside and everything. Your camera should be safe.”

“Thanks.”

The advertisements have started, and while Hyunjin’s metaphorical eardrums are getting blasted out, at least this means Seungmin can talk to him without being overheard.

“Hey,” Hyunjin says absently, a beat later. “Do you like Jeongin’s girlfriend?”

The other boy doesn’t say anything for a good few seconds. “Well,” he says drily. “I know she fucking hates me.”

Hyunjin snorts. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Seungmin swear before.

“Why, did you hear something on the way out?”

“…maybe.”

The advertisement stops, and Hyunjin has to wait the agonising three seconds of silence out before he can hear Seungmin’s reply.

“I heard from Lia she had a bad breakup before she met Jeongin,” Seungmin says quietly. “I think she’s just scared of getting cheated on again.”

“You seem to have a habit of making excuses for people who treat you badly.”

“Just stating facts,” Seungmin shrugs. The movie starts, opening credits flashing across the screen. “It’s the same with lost spirits, isn’t it? We’re all just finding our way. If something like that ever happens to me, how would I know I won’t act the same?”

 _You wouldn’t_ , Hyunjin thinks, but he doesn’t say it. _You’d just try your best to help all the people who have hurt you, so they won’t hurt anyone else. You’re infuriating like that._

They don’t talk about anything for a while longer. Again, the volume of Seungmin’s thoughts seems to drown out everything from the speakers.

Then he sighs.

“Do you think I should stop hanging out with Jeongin?”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything.

“Thinking about it tonight…” Seungmin mumbles. “We don’t really know each other anymore. And everything we do together is…weird, now that everyone knows I’m gay. I feel like if I were to hold on...it'd just be for the sake of holding on.”

“That’s not true,” Hyunjin says. He feels like his chest is on fire. “You’re the happiest whenever you tell me about all the dumb shit you used to do together with Jeongin when you were younger. Maybe if we tried and it didn’t work out, then that would be true. But you don’t even know it yet.

“You’re not holding on for the sake of holding on. You’re holding on because your friendship is important to you. And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Hyunjin ends fiercely. “Who cares what everyone thinks?”

Seungmin’s eyes don’t move from the movie screen. Then he smiles a little, slightly wobbly. “Okay. Thanks,” he whispers. Then, after a pause: “And for what it’s worth, I’m very thankful you didn’t pour popcorn on Wonyoung's hair or something.”

Hyunjin laughs, a breathy, relieved noise. “Trust me. I was this close.”

“What stopped you?”

“I want to say I thought of you,” Hyunjin admits. “But honestly, I was just kinda scared of Jihyo.”

Seungmin chuckles, and in the midst of the movement, his hand finds Hyunjin’s again.

And the thought crosses Hyunjin’s mind, like it always has before, _I could do this forever._

It’s different, being as invisible in the darkness as every other couple here, like everyone else fades out of view till it’s just Seungmin and Hyunjin.

A few more minutes in, and Hyunjin stops paying attention to the movie entirely, just shamelessly staring at Seungmin, at the reflection in his eyes every time the silver screen lights up. Every so often, his eyes will dart down to the other boy’s lips, then away again, embarrassed.

“Hey Minnie,” Hyunjin murmurs, playing with Seungmin’s fingers. “We’re a couple tonight, right?”

“Mmh?”

“So we should do what couples do.”

Hyunjin feels Seungmin tense a little against him. But he’s used to this now, and he knows he’s blindly feeling around the edge of the other boy’s boundaries, wondering just how far he’ll be allowed to trespass tonight. “What do you mean?”

In the loveseat in front of them, there’s a feminine giggle. Hyunjin glances down, grimacing, at Wonyoung and Jeongin engaging in what must be one of the Top 10 Tongue Battles of all time. “Well, there’s always that.”

He’s feeling slightly nauseated by the sight when Seungmin lifts a hand, hovering for a moment, before it connects gingerly, perfectly, with Hyunjin’s cheek, like he’s memorised the space where it should be. His thumb brushes down the side of the spirit’s face, as Hyunjin lifts his head, surprised.

“Minnie?”

He knows Seungmin can’t see him, because he’s a spirit and Seungmin is a human. But when the soft glow of the screen dawns on the side of the other boy’s face, the weight of emotion Hyunjin sees makes him feel realer than he’s ever felt in his entire life.

Even then, after everything, Seungmin still hesitates. Like he’s still not quite sure what he wants.

But Hyunjin knows exactly what he wants. And his self-control has come to an end.

His eyes flutter shut as he leans forward, electricity flooding his veins, amplifying every feeling. Then Hwang Hyunjin is kissing Kim Seungmin, clothed in darkness, and nothing else matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cant believe it took eleven chapters to finally get here 
> 
> i realise some stuff does get kind of personal and heavy throughout this fic, honestly i'm not sure how to tag this with cws, or if it's needed? i never really thought about this before because i was just writing from memories T_T if experienced friends could drop some tips in the comments i would be really grateful ;; 
> 
> please let me know what you think of the Recent Events!! and any predictions for the rest of the fic, hehe ;u; i love love love reading your theories, yall are so Smart^TM. 
> 
> (also, the posting of this chapter means all of the skz members have been introduced, with the exception of one... *eye emoji*)
> 
> have a great week ahead guys! stay safe <3


	12. 012.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even then, after everything, Seungmin still hesitates. Like he’s still not quite sure what he wants.
> 
> But Hyunjin knows exactly what he wants. And his self-control has come to an end.
> 
> His eyes flutter shut as he leans forward, electricity flooding his veins, amplifying every feeling. Then Hwang Hyunjin is kissing Kim Seungmin, clothed in darkness, and nothing else matters.

Hyunjin walks out of the movie theatre hand in hand with Seungmin, frowning as he tries to recall whatever it is they just watched, in case Seungmin asks him about it back at the hotel later. He hadn’t really been able to process the show (or anything, really) after the kiss.

_The kiss…_

_I kissed Kim Seungmin._

Hyunjin shouldn’t be feeling this happy. He thinks about Felix’s warning, about Minho’s disapproval, and winces.

_But I kissed Kim Seungmin!!_

He can’t smother the butterflies fluttering up a storm in his stomach. Why should he have to, anyway? He likes Seungmin, and now he knows there’s a 99.9% chance that Seungmin likes him too. _I’m going to feel what I’m going to feel_ , Hyunjin decides firmly.

“I’m going to the washroom,” Wonyoung informs, once they’re standing outside the theatre entrance, and Seungmin has gotten his camera back. She tugs on Jeongin’s hand. “Oppa, follow me.”

“And end up on the front page of Inven? No thanks.”

“Not _into_ the bathroom, silly! Wait for me outside.”

“We are outside the bathroom.”

Hyunjin watches, with a mildly disgusted sort of fascination, as the high school sophomore glances over at the five steps’ distance to the toilets from the movie promotion standees, and turns back, clearly discontent. Beside Hyunjin, Seungmin seems to suddenly have become very interested in poster about popcorn flavours. “Fine.”

“Don’t be sad. I’d break the law for you any day,” Jeongin kisses her cheek. Hyunjin almost lets out a sigh of relief once she’s finally walking away.

And then, all the tension comes back when he realises he’s now standing, invisible, between Jeongin and Seungmin, neither of whom are talking to each other.

It’s not a hostile silence – he knows what those sound like. This one’s too embarrassed. Too polite.

“How’ve you been, hyung?” Jeongin starts. No conversation between two best friends should start with a _how’ve you been_ , Hyunjin thinks. Because they should know how the other has been.

“Okay. School and all.”

“Haha. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. How’s…your club stuff?”

“Uh, it’s okay. Haven’t really had the time to go to practice. How’s baseball?”

“Oh, I don’t-…I don’t play baseball anymore.”

“Oh. Okay.”

It takes Hyunjin a while, but he realises that this isn’t a conversation between two best friends. It’s one between two boys who used to talk to each other every day for ten years, then not much at all, for six months. It’s two boys scrolling through conversation starters in their heads, trying to find one that still matches the other.

He can see Seungmin struggling under that blank façade, fiddling with the camera slung around his neck for comfort, and despite all his irksome worries about tonight, Hyunjin finds himself wanting things to work out between them. If the Jeongin of one year ago could make Seungmin smile like that…he just wants Seungmin to smile.

Taking Seungmin’s hand again, he squeezes lightly, running his thumb over the other boy’s, and Seungmin tightens his grip, trembling.

Hyunjin racks his brain for something, _anything_ , to lighten the situation, before Jeongin scratches the back of his neck, and Hyunjin’s eyes catch on the ring on his finger again. Something Seungmin said on the train about video games…

“Ask him about League of Legends.”

Seungmin seems surprised, but gets the question out anyway. “Do you still play League?”

“Oh, yeah!” Jeongin says, relieved. “Still getting trashed in soloqueue. What’s your rank?”

“Silver II. I’ve deteriorated,” Seungmin makes a face. “You?”

“Gold IV,” the fox-eyed boy smirks. “Still better than you.”

Seungmin sighs theatrically. His hand relaxes in Hyunjin’s, but still holds on. “Still disrespecting me, too.”

Jeongin waves his hand. “Like my bling? I bought Wonyoung and I Kindred couple rings. She didn’t talk to me for a whole three hours.”

 _That_ makes Seungmin laugh. “I take it she doesn’t like League a lot.”

“More like she doesn’t like when I play and forget to reply her texts,” Jeongin complains. “It’s just a couple of games! And she _never_ wants to follow me to watch matches.”

“Oh, are you watching Kespa Cup this year?”

“No plans yet. Wanna go?” Jeongin takes out his phone. Despite himself, Hyunjin does a little _yes_. _It’s working!!_ “I’m sure Wonyoungie will be fine without me for an afternoon.”

There’s a flurry of movement as the two boys discuss the date and which teams they’re supporting (who knew Seungmin was a _T1 fan_ …what a basic bitch, Hyunjin thinks fondly), before Jeongin finally puts his phone back. “Oh, and...sorry about her tonight, by the way.”

Seungmin stiffens, as does Hyunjin. _So he knows what's going on._ “Oh. Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t just _not_ worry about it. You’re my best friend,” Jeongin scoffs. “Sorry. Give her some time, she’ll get used to it.”

“Well, I’m not sure what Jaemin told her, but-…”

“Jaemin’s so full of shit,” Jeongin says calmly, and Hyunjin thinks he immediately likes him a little bit better. “The whole bunch of them are. I wish Wonyoung wouldn’t hang out with them so much. You know he tried to ask her and Yujin out underage clubbing with them? He’s just trying to drag as many people as he can down with him, so it doesn’t look as bad if he ever gets busted,” Jeongin scowls, sighing. “I wish more people were like you, hyung.”

Seungmin blinks, still looking a littel guarded. “What do you mean?”

“Like…maybe if I were in Wonnie’s shoes, I’d say yes to him, because it’s Jaemin, you know?” the other boy shrugs, running a hand through his hair. “But you wouldn’t. No matter who it is. You’d always say that thing, that it’s okay, because…”

“…Because I won’t regret it tomorrow,” Seungmin says quietly.

“Yeah,” Jeongin sighs. “It’s really annoying.”

The older boy rolls his eyes, smiling. “ _You’re_ annoying. And…thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jeongin grins. There’s a pause, before he continues. “So…if you’re still a pleb stuck in Silver, means you must be pretty busy with other things, right hyung?”

Seungmin tenses again, the subtle movement like a wall against the palm of Hyunjin’s hand. He holds on tighter, other hand coming to clasp Seungmin’s hand in between his. _It’s okay_.

“I’m…um,” he shrugs. “I’m kind of doing like a…part time job?”

“Oh, nice,” Jeongin looks interested. “Does it pay good? I really need some pocket money. Who knew girlfriends were this _expensive?_ ”

“Uh, I don’t get paid, actually.”

“Oh, so it’s like, volunteering?” Jeongin scrunches his face up.

“Yeah…something like that.”

“Cool,” the younger boy sounds genuinely curious, if not a little confused. “What do you do there?”

“I uh…I help people with things that they um…that they can’t do on their own,” Seungmin stutters out. Hyunjin would facepalm if he had free hands.

“Like…a senior citizen daycare, or something?”

Seungmin thinks about this for a while. “Well, now that you mention it…”

“Hey!” Hyunjin slaps the other boy’s shoulder, making him grin. “That’s mean. You’re mean. I’m not going to hold your hand anymore.”

He lets go, but Seungmin finds him again in a split second, gripping tight, aligning their fingers till they’re interlaced again. Hyunjin’s heart does a wobbly loop-de-loop in his chest.

“It’s a great place,” Seungmin finishes, smiling warmly. “The work is great, and the people are…good.”

Jeongin seems to catch onto something, though. He raises a brow, grinning. “The people, huh?”

The older boy flushes, making a face. “Yeah, what’s wrong?”

“Your face looks all funny and dumb, hyung. Did you meet someone?”

Hyunjin doesn’t even dare to _breathe_ , in that moment. His hand is still wrapped around Seungmin’s.

“…maybe,” Seungmin mumbles, finally.

Jeongin looks surprised, then genuinely happy. “…well, I hope things work out between you and him.”

Seungmin’s face lights up. “Thanks, Innie.”

“ _Oppa_.”

The happy rainbow in the sky of Hyunjin’s mind shatters, and he sighs loudly, before turning to see Wonyoung standing by the movie posters. He knows that look. It’s an argument on the horizon. _Empathise, Hyunjin, empathise._

Apparently Jeongin knows the look too, because he loops an arm through hers. “Want to get some dinner?”

“Not hungry,” she shrugs, looking at the promotional setup in the middle of the concierge. It’s promoting the movie they’d just watched, an action-packed photo op backdrop with the movie title at the top. “This looks nice.”

It doesn’t look very remarkable to Hyunjin, but he knows that’s girlfriend-speak for-…

“Want to take a picture?” Jeongin suggests. “To remember all the weird aliens we saw tonight.”

“Okay,” Wonyoung says nonchalantly. Then she nods in Seungmin’s direction, looking pointedly away. “Get him to take a picture for us.”

 _Forgive me Seungmin,_ Hyunjin thinks, searching for the nearest box of popcorn. _Forgive me Jihyo, if you’d only seen what a bitch she was-…_

“Sure,” Seungmin says calmly, before Jeongin can ask. He pauses when he realises that she’s not giving him her phone, and then slowly raises his own camera, framing them carefully in the shot as they pose.

Then, as if tonight could get any more chaotic – “Hi!” It’s one of the cinema staff, probably some high school freshman on her first job, hair pulled back into a ponytail, with purple braces. She holds out a hand awkwardly, eyes bright. “Can I help you?”

“Oh,” Seungmin pauses. “No, it’s okay-…”

“I can take the photo, so you can be in the picture with your friends!”

There’s a painfully long silence, as the girl glances between them, slowly realising that she may have made a Mistake. Then Seungmin hands her the camera. “Ah, thanks.”

He stands on the other side of the standee, giving a small smile.

The girl bobs up and down anxiously in position, squinting through the viewfinder. “Um, say cheese!”

Hyunjin feels Seungmin’s whole body tense up when he slides an arm under his, chest flush against the other boy’s back, smiling at the camera over his shoulder. “ _Relax_ ,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around the other boy’s waist. “Only you can see me through the camera, right?”

“Yeah, but-…”

“I’m just here. Just let me be here with you.”

“Okay,” the girl says with a nervous smile. “1, 2, 3!”

*

They part ways after thanking the movie employee, Seungmin telling Jeongin that he’ll send the photo once he downloads it off the camera.

All in all, not too bad a night, Hyunjin thinks, as he walks up the pavement back towards the hotel.

Beside him, Seungmin walks along in silence, holding his hand.

Biting his lower lip, Hyunjin tries his very best not to smile the stupidest smile ever.

They’d looked at the photos together on the subway back. While Hyunjin’s itching to photoshop out the other couple in the picture, he’d looked long and happy at the other side of the photo. _Their_ side.

 _“You look so stiff, hyung_ ,” Jeongin had laughed, pointing at the photo. “ _Your shoulders always look like you’re carrying a backpack._ ”

Seungmin had just smiled after that, not taking his eyes off the image display.

It’s not Hyunjin’s best photo, admittedly – he’s not posing, like he usually would taking couple photos in the past. Instead, he looks like a mouse in the most comfortable spot of sunlight on the floor, wrapped around Seungmin. And _Seungmin_ …there’s a serenity in his smile that warms Hyunjin up from the inside out.

“It’s our first photo together,” Seungmin comments on their way back, and Hyunjin realises it’s true. They’ve taken photos _of_ each other before this, just never together, in the same frame.

And now, Hyunjin just wants to take a hundred photos together. Wants to etch their days and nights down in shapes and colours, to remember that the two of them once existed together, in the same plane, feeling the same way they do now.

Before…before he can’t.

The warm golden lights of the hotel are approaching, against the hues of night, and Hyunjin feels an urgency stirring in his chest to ask Seungmin, before they’re back, what happens after tonight.

Do they go back to what they were? _Can_ they even? Now that he knows what it feels like to hug Seungmin, to kiss him, to hold his hand and walk under the night sky, the world without it just seems…stale.

“…Minnie-…”

“Hyunjin-…” Seungmin stops, then grumbles, as Hyunjin laughs. “ _Ah_ , I hate it when this happens. You first.”

“No, you first.”

“But you spoke first.”

“Well, I don’t feel like speaking first now~”

Seungmin is silent for a while, probably weighing the pros and cons of continuing this pointless argument. Then he sighs. “We should talk. About…just now.”

Unease creeps up on Hyunjin. Firmly, he holds onto the good feelings from tonight. “I guess we should.”

“In the cinema…” Seungmin trails off. “Why did you kiss me?”

Hyunjin wonders if he hasn’t already made it impossibly obvious enough. “Because I like you?”

“You’re not just – experimenting, because I like boys or whatever, right?” Seungmin says quickly.

“What?” Hyunjin squawks, offended. “No, why would I do that?”

“Have you ever dated a boy before?”

“Well, no, but-…”

“Then how do you know you like me?”

“Because…being with you makes me feel happy. And I want to make you feel happy,” Hyunjin frowns. “Isn’t that what liking someone is?”

Seungmin looks embarrassed. “I’ve…never been in a real relationship before.”

“Well…” Hyunjin looks at him through his lashes, momentarily forgetting he can’t be seen. “You could always start now.”

The other boy sighs, voice heavy. “Hyunjin, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why not?” Hyunjin argues. “Look, there are tons of perks to having a ghost boyfriend. If you ever want free samples of ice cream but it’s too embarrassing to go take seconds, I could get you a whole bunch of free samples! Think about it! Endless free samples!”

“ _Hyunjin_ ,” Seungmin laughs, pushing the ghost lightly. “If you could be my boyfriend, free samples would be the _last_ thing I’d think of.”

“And if that jerk Donghyuck ever tries to pull a fast one on you again, I could -…” Hyunjin tries to think of something adequately non-threatening. “I could take away all his desserts for a week! Also, no PDA!” Hyunjin beams, as they stop outside the hotel.

“What?” Seungmin looks confused.

“It’s not PDA if people can’t see it right?” Hyunjin leans over, swiftly pecking the other boy’s cheek, making him jump.

“ _Ah_ , stop!” the other boy laughs.

“I could kiss you whenever we want, and nobody would see~” Hyunjin singsongs, clinging onto the other boy smugly, nosing into the back of his neck. “Nobody would-…see…”

Seungmin is suddenly tense as a live wire.

Because standing on the pavement under the streetlight, on the other side of the steps up to the hotel gardens, is Chan.

Chan, who’s looking at them both with a slightly disappointed, apprehensive frown.

 _Oh no._ Hyunjin lets go of Seungmin tentatively, as if that’ll make a difference now.

Then the manager gestures up the stairs, towards the light of the hotel, with a fixed smile. “Let’s talk, both of you.”

*

Hyunjin sits, hands folded in front of him, in Chan’s office – it’s way smaller than Minho’s, though that might just be because of the shelves upon shelves of old paperwork, crammed against the walls. A ceiling fan whirs meditatively above them, and a weathered but surprisingly well-kept black leather couch takes up the space behind them, a fluffy blanket with rubber ducks folded on the armrest.

The whole place is clean but clearly ages old, with traces of each manager before Chan littered all over the place – a jewel encrusted mirror on the cupboard door, engraved bookends, a whole section of Hello Kitty notebooks, and what looks suspiciously like a stone dagger from the Joseon era, now repurposed as a letter opener.

It’s all very…practical. Hyunjin wouldn’t say that it’s cold, or unwelcoming, because it’s not – it’s just very unintentionally impersonal.

Across the old mahogany desk, the manager finally sits in his leather chair, clearing away a laptop with an alarming number of hard drives taped to the top, folding his hands on the table. There’s a kind but severe look on his face.

_Please, please just let us stay together._

“So let’s just set some context first,” Chan says carefully. “I know I have no right to police the things you do, or the decisions you make. But when Minho let you come in here six months ago, Seungmin, he had certain rules. The same rules that apply to me. Do you remember those rules?”

Beside Hyunjin, Seungmin’s sitting ramrod straight. “Yes,” he mumbles.

“He doesn’t just set these things for fun. He set it because he’s seen hundreds of managers come and go, and he knows what’s best for the hotel and us humans,” Chan continues. Hyunjin’s trying his best not to interrupt. “Which means no relationships with the guests, or the staff.”

“But-…” Hyunjin protests.

“Let me finish first, Hyunjin,” Chan holds up a hand, not taking his eyes off Seungmin. “You know that we’re working to help Hyunjin cross over to the afterlife. Starting a relationship would cause a conflict of interest.”

“But we don’t even know how long it’ll be before I can go over!” Hyunjin bursts out. “It might be _years_ , just like Felix!”

“Felix is a…special case,” Chan says, sounding uncharacteristically prickly for a moment. “And on top of that, Minho discouraged us from telling anyone outside of the staff, but I think you should know that we’re currently more tied up than usual because of some external issues affecting the hotel.”

_External issues…?_

“…Is it something to do with the supply problems you keep needing to go offsite for?” Seungmin says, frowning slightly. “What’s happening?”

“Yes,” Chan says wearily. “Minho thinks it might be a stray spirit hunter who’s trying to find the hotel. Which is why we’re not able to pay as much attention to Hyunjin or the other guests at the moment. But once it’s resolved, which will probably be soon, it means we’ll be back on track,” he gives them both a measured look.

“I know you may both like each other. But getting together now would only make you regret it when Hyunjin needs to leave. Especially for you, Seungmin.”

Hyunjin feels a painful twist inside him at the truth. He doesn’t dare to look at Seungmin.

“I understand,” Seungmin says stiffly. “Thank you hyung. We’ll be on our way.”

“You both should get some rest,” Chan stands, walking over to get the door. “Hyunjin, just hold tight for a few more months, and we’ll find a way to get you over to the afterlife, okay?”

“Sure,” Hyunjin mumbles, shuffling out.

They walk in silence out of the room, passing a sleepy Felix in his pyjamas and eyemask, before they’re back in the waiting area outside the offices, surrounded by the portraits of the old managers, now lit up by the dying glow of the fireplace.

Hyunjin looks anxiously at Seungmin, who’s still staring up at the cavernous walls. “So-…?”

“We shouldn’t have done this tonight.”

The spirit had expected the words, but they still crush him. A part of him had been hoping for some sort of fight left in Seungmin, to keep trying, even if it meant they had to keep it a secret.

But at the same time, Hyunjin knew Seungmin just wasn’t that type of person. He wouldn’t lie, especially about love.

“Does this mean we won’t get to see each other anymore?” Hyunjin hates how vulnerable he sounds.

Seungmin doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Hyunjin braces himself for the worst, throat dry as sand. It’s funny how this is the worst Hyunjin has felt during a breakup in his life, and he and Seungmin technically aren’t even together.

“A few months is too long,” Seungmin says eventually, and Hyunjin holds his breath, wondering what he means. The other boy turns to face him eventually, looking calm. “While General Manager Chan and the rest of the staff are busy settling that stray hunter, I’ll help you get over to the afterlife. Give me a few days to think it over. There must be something we missed.”

_…And then what?_

_We pretend that nothing ever happened between us?_

But it’s more than what Hyunjin had dared to hope for, and he’s too afraid to ask for more. “Okay.”

“Goodnight, Hyunjin.”

“Goodnight,” the ghost mumbles, eyes following Seungmin to the double doors. Then his feet spur into motion. “Let me follow you to the bus stop.”

“No, it’s okay,” Seungmin says, voice strained. His knuckles are white around the brass doorknob. “See you. And…thank you. For tonight.”

Then he leaves, footsteps silent in the carpet down the corridor. Hyunjin listens to the sound of the elevator door whirring open, then shut, in the distance.

Slowly, he takes a few steps back, sinking into the couch by the fireplace. He thinks he’s going to cry again. He wants to bury his face in his knees, try and fail to process everything that’s happened tonight, overthink himself into the next week. Everything had been going so well, and now all those walls are back up, locking him out.

 _It’s not fair_ , he wants to scream until his voice gives out. _Why did I have to meet you only after I died? Why couldn’t we find each other when I was alive?_

Eyes blurry with tears, he finds himself staring up at the wall of portraits, gaze catching on the golden framed picture beside the empty space above the lamp.

It starts as a feeling, before crystallising into a thought.

 _I can’t leave like this_.

As the minutes pass, the grief within him melts into something clearer, a single-minded resolve that lasts long after he’s washed the tear tracks off his face in his room later. As much as it hurts to think of Seungmin’s future happiness without him in it, it’s all that can keep him going.

 _Before I go to the afterlife,_ Hyunjin thinks, lying alone in his room, staring at the ceiling. _I’m going to find out what’s keeping Seungmin in this hotel. And I’m going to make sure he moves on too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry all this is happening :')
> 
> for those of yall wondering if all this suffering is worth it, i would like to direct our attention to the "angst with a happy ending" tag, bc heaven knows even i probably wouldn't be here without it
> 
> thank you for reading! sorry that the past few chapters were a little meander-y ;; things are going to pick up from the next chapter onwards, so please hold on for the ride haha. also!! am super hyped for skz kingdom performances, ikon x skz rapline collab pls.....!!
> 
> comments and kudos would be much loved and treasured. please stay safe and stay healthy!

**Author's Note:**

> let's be friends! ;u;    
>  writing twt: @symmetrophobic 


End file.
